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I  W64a 


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NEW  SATIRICAL  COMIC  OPERA  IN  TWO  ACTS 

LIBRETTO^fj^VMUSIC     BY  ^ 

ENJAMIN  E.WQOLF 

PUBLISHED       BY 


545    WASHINGTON    ST.    BOSTON 


PDUNCE  &  CD.^ 

Or,  capital  vs.  labor. 

Producedffor  the  first  time  on  any  stage  by 

Collier's  standard  Opera  Conipariy, 

AT    THE     BIJOU    THEATRE,    BOSTON, 
Thursday  Evening,  April  19,  1883. 

Thomas  Pounce.     The  head  of  the  firm  of  Pounce  &  Co.,  Mr.  E.  P.  Temple 

;    George  Spoke.     Captain  of  the  Bicycle  Club  .   .   .  Mr.  ^Y.  H.  Pessenden 

]>HTT  TT>  TvRF  )  ("...,.  Mr.  A.  Kammerlee 

I     Arthur  Dobbins,  otherwise  Lord  Alfred  Peerage   .  Mr.  Harry  Pepper 

I    Oliver  Grip.    A  man  for  a'  that Sig.  Brocolini 

Jack  Spindle.    A  son  of  toil,  contented  .    .   .   .  Mr  H.  F.  Fairweather 

DiGGORY  EUGGS.    x  (  MR.   ANDREW   MeTZGER 

nmir  MTTPfts  /  )  •   Mr.  John  P.  Savage 

""k  t.:::.-    ^^"^  °"°"'  «-»"*«"'«'•  . .  mb.  ^..... ...... 

:     Ned  Si.ugos.  >  ^-    ■    ■  Mb.  D.  P.  Steele 

j  AN"B 

i  William  Crank.    The  silent  partner Mr.  Henry  E.  Dixey 

i  Polly  Chromo Miss  Gertrude  Franklin 

i  Eleanor.  )  ( Miss  Janet  Edmondson 

1  Sylvia.      V  Daughters  of  Pounce.  ] Miss  Sylvia  Gerrish 

i       MILICENT.  )  ( Ml««   ^''^  ^^^^^^ 

I     Esther.  )  ( M^®^''  Hattie  Delaro 

1    Laura.'  h  Daughters  of  Crank.   ] Miss  Madelaine  Dixon 

i     oiiviA    )  ( Mis-^  ^^^'^^  ^^^^"^ 

I      IPHIGENIA.  1  r Miss  JENNIE  MCNULTY 

I      ANTIGONE.  I  MISS   RUTH    STETSON 

I     Andromache.   '  ^,.  ,  ^^,^^^^^    J Miss  May  Steele 

..,,„,.,  ^  Is leces  ot  Pounce.  ^  Miss  Estelle  Jenness 

ViEDEA.                      1                                                      I       ' 
I      JOCASTA.  I  I MISS   FANNIE   KNIGHT 

i     Electka.  J  ^ MISS  Edith  Abell 

!  Work-people,  members  of  the  Bicycle  Club,  etc. 

I  ACT  L  -MANSION  AND  GROUNDS  OF  POUNCE  &  CO. 
i  ACT  IL  -  INTERIOR  OF  THE  SILK  FACTORY. 

i  

j  TIME  —  A  PROBABLE  FUTURE. 

1  "O  Tempoua  Mutantuk." 


0^c-l^        _e.p 


-^K^  OI^IQIJ^^L  COMIC  OPERyi.*^- 


IN  TWO  ACTS. 


^^-i^HBEIlITO  AHB  IIUSIO  BtG^^ 


Author  of  "  The  Mighty  Dollar,"  "  Doctor  oTAlcantaira," 
"  Lawn  Tennis,"  etc. 


.PUBLISHED    By ^ 


:-#-COLLIER   &    RICE-# 


$f3f-  Messrs.  Collier  8s  Rice  have  the  exclusive  control  of  this  opera  in  the 
United  States  and  Canadas. 


Copyright, 
Bt  B.  E.  WooLF, 


ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED, 


f.    '^cdrr  Smith 


ML  so 


POUNCE    &    CO 


ACT  I. 

Scene.  A  handsome  garden,  prettily  arranged  for  a  merry-making. 
At  rise  of  curtain,  ^corkmen  and  work-girls  in  holiday 
attire,  discovered. 

,  Chorus. 

There  is  no  firm  of  which  we  know 
That  can  compare  with  Pounce  «fc  Co. 
Whene'er  we  will  we  take  our  ease. 
And  only  labor  when  we  please. 

Men.  We  doubt  if  anywhere  there  be 

Such  happy  sons  of  toil  as  we. 


AVOMEN. 

And  daughters! 

Men, 

No  offence  to  you  ; 

We  meant  to  say,  and  daughters,  too! 

TlTTTI. 

Then  many  blessings  on  the  head 

Of  Thomas  Pounce  be  ever  shed; 

And  mav  a  due  proportion  go 

On  that  of  WilUam  Crank,  the  Co. 

Spindle. 

We  want  for  nothing! 

TUTTI. 

Very  true! 

Spindle. 

We  reign  supreme! 

TUTTI. 

We  do;  we  do. 

Sptxdi.e. 

In  fact,  we  could,  if  we  saw  fit, 

Be  masters  here. 

TUTTI. 

Xo  doubt  of  it. 

Spindle.  And  knowing  this,  I 'think  we  may 

Without  the  least  compunction  say, 

TuTTi.  There  is  no  firm  of  which  we  know 

That  can  compare  with  Pounce  &  Co. 
Whene'er  we  will  we  take  our  ease, 
And  only  labor  when  we  please. 


^359520 


POUNCE    &    CO 


Women  {argumentatively).     And  very  proper,  too. 

Men  {frankly).  We  quite  agree  with  you. 

But  still  the  facts  remain;  and  so 
We  wish  success  to  Pounce  &  Co. ! 

Ti  TTi.  Success  to  Pounce  &  Co.! 

Enter  Polly  Chkomo. 

Polly  (gayly).     So  you  are  here  I 

AVoMEN  {disdainfully).  Decidedly! 

Since  nowhere  else  we  chance  to  be.- 

Polly  {wounded  and  tearfully). 

Please,  to-day,  don't  snub  me  so! 
That  you  dislike  me  well  I  know. 

Men  {sympathetically).     We  like  you,  Polly!    Yes,  we  do! 

Polly  (naively).   But  I  want  them  to  like  me,  too! 
I  cannot  gain  their  approbation 
Because  I  'm  not  above  my  station. 

Women  (with  contemptuous  indignation).    Above  your  station? 

Men  (remonstrating).    Polly,  dear. 

Don't  use  that  sort  of  language  here! 
Oblige  us!  Do  oblige  us,  pray! 

Polly  (piqued).    Well,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say 
Except  that  folks  in  humble  places 
Should  not  indulge  in  airs  and  graces. 

Song.  —  Polly. 

"^^  Life  is  ever  as  we  make  it ; 

Sad  or  happy,  as  we  take  it. 

Then  enjoy  it, 

And  employ  it, 
In  laughing  and  singing, 
And  merrily  flinging 

All  envy,  for  aye, 

Far  away. 

We  cannot  change  the  decree  of  fate 

By  even  the  hardest  endeavor; 
So  on  its  pleasure  we  all  must  wait, 

For  aid  us,  complaining  can  never. 
Crows,  you  're  aware,  gorgeous  peacocks  are  not, 
Still  may  a  crow  be  content  with  his  lot, 
And  have  his  measure 
Of  pleasure. 
Yes !  that  is  so. 
You  well  know 


POUNCE   &    CO. 


Women. 
Men. 


Station  high  or  low  is  naught, 

Merely  viewed  as  station. 
How  to  till  it  is  the  thought 

That  calls  for  cogitation. 
Why  should  you  scorn  my  ambition 
To  take  with  content  my  position? 

No  fate  so  perverse 

That  it  could  not  be  worse,  — 
Except  —  and  to  this  you  "11  agree  — 
'T  was  already  as  bad  as  it  ever  could  be. 

Life  is  ever  as  we  take  it,  etc. 

And  very  proper,  too! 

We  quite  agree  with  you ! 

We  therefore  will  resume,  and  so 

We  wish  success  to  Pounce  &  Co. 


Omnes.  Success  to  Pounce  &  Co. 

Enter  Grip,  followed  hy  Ruggs,  Mugos,  Tuggs,  and  Sluggs. 

Grip  (recti.).       What  do  I  hear?    You  wish  success 
To  those  who  honest  toil  oppress? 
It  makes  my  indignation  kindle ! 
Where  is  your  manhood,  Mr.  Spindle? 

Ruggs,  Muggs,  Tuggs,  and  Sluggs. 

It  makes  our  indignation  kindle, 
Where  is  your  manhood,  Mr.  Spindle? 

Spindle.  For  you,  and  for  your  censorship, 

I  have  no  answer,  Mr.  Grip. 

Omnes  (except  Grip  and  followers). 

For  you,  and  for  your  censorship, 
We  have  no  answer,  Mr.  Grip. 

Grip  (sardonically).         Ha,  ha! 

Ruggs  (and  followers).    Ha,  ha! 

Grip  AVill  no  wrongs  make  yoi;r  bosoms  burn? 

D'  ye  think  you  're  worms,  that  you  spin  silk? 
Know  that  at  times  the  worm  will  turn, 

Polly.  And  so  at  times  will  milk! 

Omnes  (Grip  and  followers  sardonically). 

Ha,  ha!  Ha,  ha! 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


Song.  —  GRir. 

We  are  the  noble  sons  of  toil. 
And  from  morn  to  eve  we  m<nl. 
And  for  what,  I'd  like  to  know? 
Just  that  others  rich  may  grow  I 

Do  you  think  that's  quite  the  cheese? 

Not  by  a  jug  full,  if  you  please!    ' 

Chorus  (doubtfully  to  each  other). 

It  really  don't  seem  quite  the  cheese. 
Not  by  a  jug  full,  if  you  please! 

II. 

Wliy  for  them  should  we  toil  thus, 
Any  more  than  they  for  us? 
The  wealth  and  ease  in  which  they  live 
Jnto  them  we  're  forced  to  give ! 

Do  you  think  that 's  quite  the  cheese? 

Not  by  a  jug  full,  if  you  please. 

Chorus  (decidedly). 

Indeed,  it  is  not  quite  the  cheese! 
Not  by  a  jug  full,  if  you  please. 

Spindle.  In  spite  of  this  I  think  we  may 

Without  the  least  compunction  say :  — 

Chorus  (except  Grip  and  followers). 

There  is  no  firm  of  which  we  know 
That  can  compare  with  Pounce  &  Co. 
Whene'er  we  will  we  take  our  ease. 
And  only  labor  when  we  please ! 

Polly.  You're  always  grumbling,  Mr.  Grip.  Don't  Pounce  &  Co. 
give  us  all  we  want? 

Grip.     They  don't  give  me  all  I  want. 

Polly.    What,  in  mercy's  name,  do  you  want? 

Grip.     What  they  have  n't  given  me. 

Polly.     But  what  have  n't  they  given  you? 

Grip.     All  I  want. 

RuGGS  and  followers.     All  we  want.     (Suggestively  to  Grip.) 

Grip  (discomfited).     It's  the  same  thing! 

Polly.  Yes  ;  it 's  always  the  same  thing,  as  far  as  complaining  goes. 
Have  n't  you  struck  regularly  once  a  month  for  the  past  two 
years,  and  have  n't  Pounce  &  Co.  yielded  every  time  ? 

Grip.     That 's  only  a  reason  for  striking  again!     Are  we  not  men? 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


W()!::c-MOMi:x  (as  a  suggestion).     And  women  ! 

Gkip.     And  women? 

lir^afs  and  other  consjnrators.     We  are,  we  are  !     N^ot  a  doubt  of  it. 

(timp.  Bloated  capital  must  learn  that  it  cannot  trample  on  the  rights 
of  honest   l*bor. 

I^oLiA'.  But  what  if  bloated  labor  trample  on  the  rights  of  honest 
capital  V 

(iuiP  (sententiously).  Capital  is  never  honest.  Labor  never  has  a 
chance  to  get  bloated. 

Ri^C40s  and  companions.     No  !  look  at  us! 

GvAV.  Besides,  capital  has  no  rights.  Its  time  is  wholly  taken  up  in 
wronging  labor. 

Polly  (indignantly).  Pounce  &  Co.  wrong  labor?  Have  n't  they 
built  you  houses?  Have  n't  they  furnished  them?  Don't  they 
feed  you  on  the  fat  of  the  land  ?  Don't  they  give  you  everj'^- 
thing  you  desire?    And  don't  }'0u  take  it? 

Grip.  We  are  entitled  to  it  !  We  are  the  hard-handed  sons  of  toil. 
What  would  capital  be  without  us? 

Polly.     What  would  u^e  be  without  it? 

Grip  (discomfited).  I'm  not  talking  about  that.  But  go  on  ;  grovel 
in  the  dust !  Be  trampled  on  if  you  like  it !  I  don't!  I  'm  out 
and  above  board.  There  's  no  nonsense  about  me  I  I  carry  my 
heart  in  my  hand. 

Polly.     I  knew  your  heart  was  n't  in  the  right  place. 

Grip.  Indeed!  (Looking  off.)  See  !  yonder  come  the  pampered 
Pounce  &  Co.  to  gloat  over  their  work. 

Polly.     What  work  ?    Giving  you  a  holiday  ? 

Grip.  Oh,  the  pride  and  insolence  of  wealth  I  They  give  us  a  holi- 
day to  make  us  feel  our  dependence.  Could  we  give  them  a  hoU- 
day  ?  Xo  !  Then  why  do  they  give  us  a  holiday  ?  Because  it  is 
Pounce's  birthday.  Would  they  give  us  a  holiday  if  it  were  our 
birthday? 

RuGGS  and  companions  (gloomily).     The  poor  have  no  birthdays! 

Grip.  And  he  makes  even  his  birthday  a  source  of  self-gloritication. 
Is  there  any  merit  in  a  birthday  as  a  birthday?  No!  but  he  would 
make  a  merit  of  his.  As  if  he  had  chosen  this  day  of  all  others  to 
be  born.  Bah!  it  was  only  a  mere  chance  that  he  wasn't  born 
yesterday  or  to-morrow. 

RuGGS  and  companions  (bitterly).     Aye!  or  even  next  week.  "* 

Polly  (sarcastically.)     Or  never. 

Grip.     He  comes;  with  his  voluptuary  birthday  pride  in  his  eye. 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


Chorus  (Grip  and  followers  silent). 

HaU,  Mr.  Pounce;  our  best  duty  we  pay, 

And  wish  to  you  many  returns  of  the  day. 

We  cannot  find  words  to  express  how  sincere 

Is  our  joy  that  you  've  entered  your  sixty-fourth  year. 

Sound, sound  the  lyre 

To  Thomas  Pounce,  Esquire! 

Bnriwj  chorus^  enter  Pounce,  followed  hy  Crank.  Pounce  hows, 
smiles,  and  shakes  hands  with  everybody.  As  he  goes  to  Grip  and 
his  followers  they  shake  hands  with  him  with  sycophantic  eager- 
ness, but  as  soon  as  his  back  is  turned  they  resume  their  scolding 
aspect.  Crank  stands  apart  and  smiles  at  everything  ostenta- 
tiously. 

Pounce.  Thanks,  friends!  for  I  may  call  you  such, 

I  fear  you  honor  me  too  much. 

Grip  and  followers  (ironically  )     Hear,  hear! 

Pounce.  Believe  me,  I  will  ne'er  forget 

How  greatly  I  am  in  your  debt! 

Grip  and  followers  (as  before).     Hear,  hear! 
Pounce.  'T  will  ever  be  my  constant  care 

Your  very  best  esteem  to  share. 

Chorus  (except  Grip  and  followers), 
Sound,  sound  the  lyre 
To  Thomas  Pounce,  Esq. 
Pounce,  As  some  return  my  gratitude  to  show, 

I  '11  tell  you  how  I  rose  to  Pounce  &  Co. 

Song.  —  Pounce. 

When  a  youngster,  I  had 
A  peculiar  dad, 

Of  a  querulous,  obstinate  turn; 
Who  to  me  one  day 
Thought  it  proper  to  say, 

*'  Go  forth  your  own  living  to  earn, 
And  see  that  you  roam 
Till  you  come  again  home 

With  servants,  and  horses,  and  sich; 
In  fact,  till  you  've  made 
An  acquaintance  with  trade, 

And  become  independently  rich!" 
That  is  what  my  dad  said. 
Chorus  (confidentially  to  each  other)» 

That  is  what  his  dad  said. 
Pounce.  And  away  then  I  sped. 


POUNCE   &    CO.                                                    9 

Chorcs, 

And  away  then  he  sped. 

Pounce. 

Ah!  then  't  was  not  esL&y  to  know 
That  I  was  to  see 
The  proud  day  when  I M  he 
*        A  most  prosperous  Pounce  with  a  Co. 

Chorus. 

He  could  not  then  see 
That  he  ever  should  be 
A  most  prosperous  Pounce  with  a  Co. 

< 

n. 

I  first  was  a  clerk, 
And  I  stuck  to  mv  work, 

Never  coming  down  late  to  the  store. 
When  labor  was  done, 
Off  the  others  would  run. 

But  to  do  so  I  always  forbore. 
My  master  observed 
With  what  zeal  he  was  served, 
t     And  he  called  me  unto  him,  to  sav: 
"  You  're  a  pious  young  sneak. 
'  And  so,  after  this'week 

You  may  pack  up  vour  traps,  and  away  !" 
/  That  is  just  what  he  said. 

Chobus  {surprised,  to  each  other). 

That  is  just  what  he  said. 

Pounce.  . 

And  away  then  I  sped. 

Chorus. 

Pounce. 

And  away  then  he  sped 
Ah,  then  't  was  not  easy  to  know 
That  I  was  to  see, 
The  proud  day  when  I  'd  be 
A  most  prosperous  Pounce  with  a  Co. 

Chorus. 

He  could  not  then  see 
The  proud  day  when  he  'd  be 
A  most  prosperous  ^imce  with  a  Co. 

• 

in. 

The  next  place  I  got 
Was  uncommonly  hot; 
For  my  master  would  have  his  own  way. 

10  POUNCE    &    CO. 


Whatever  he  said, 

Right  or  wrong,  his  pig-head 

Would  allow  not  a  soul  to  gainsay. 
I  always  said  "  no  " 
When  he  chanced  to  say  so; 

And  his  "  yes  "  was  my  ''  yes  "  to  a  spell; 
Till  he  said  unto  me, 
"  You  my  partner  shall  be. 

We  agree  so  exceedingly  well." 
That  is  just  what  he  said. 

Chorus  (with  pleasure). 
That  is  just  what  he  said. 
Pounce.  Blessiags  on  his  pig-head! 

Chorus. 
Blessings  on  his  pig-head! 
Pounce.  .         Ah!  that  was  the  first  step,  you  know! 

And  now,  as  you  see,  -" 

Just  as  plain  as  can  be, 
I  'ro  a  prosperous  Pounce  with  a  Co. 

Chorus. 
Ah,  yes!  we  now  see. 
Just  as  plain  as  can  be, 
He 's  a  prosperous  Pounce  with  a  Co. ! 

Pounce.  Well;  I  'm  glad  to  see  you  all  so  happ}  .  But  you  know  my 
principles.  My  work-people  must  be  treated  as  if  the}^  were  my 
own  family.  What  they  have  you  have.  The  laborer  is  the  equal 
of  his  employer.  You  live  on  the  fat  of  the  land ;  and  very  prop- 
erly.    Your  wages  — 

(tUIP  (with  a  wounded  air).     I  beg  pardon  —  mlaries! 

iii'OGS  and  companions.     Sal-a-ries! 

V(^vrsvY.(apolo(jetlcally).  True,  your  salaries  are  constantly  increased 
whenever  you  ask  it,  —  and  you  always  ask.  We  do  not  wish  you 
10  look  upon  all  of  this  as  a  favor,  but  as  a  right.  The  Co.,  Mr. 
Crank,  would  tell  you  the  same  thing,  but  he  is  a  silent  i)artner, 
and,  of  course,  can't  speak.     (Crank  smiles.) 

Pounce.     We  are  all  equals ! 

(trip  (aside).     Egotist!     (Contemptuously.) 

Pounce.  We  have  built  you  houses  and  furnished  them  in  the  most 
jesihetic  manner.  We  have  given  you  instruction  in  French, 
German,  and  the  philosophy  of  Kant;  you  have  teachers  fo*r  sing- 
ing, for  the  piano,  and  harmony,—  all  of  you,  except  Polly,  who,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  I  cannot  prevail  upon  to  improve  her  condition. 


POUNCE    &    CO.  11 


Polly,  T  mmi  a  work-u^irl,  and  have  no  business  with  these  acconiphsh- 
iiU'His, 

CifANK  k)iocks  his  stick  on  the  ground  appromiujhj. 

PorxcH  (severely).  Mr.  Crank!  As  a,  silent  partner  you  have  nothing 
to  say.  (Crank  looks  abashed  and  apologetic.  TJie  women  and 
men  all  evince  disdain  at  Polly's  speech.) 

Pounce.     Polly,  you  are  wrong! 

Polly.     Perhaps  so;  but  I  am  content  to  earn  my  wages  — 

OPINES  (shorkc'l).     Wages!     Oh! 

I*olly'.     An  I  do  not  want  to  be  under  obligations  to  anybody  lor  mak- 
ing me  above  my  station  or  my  business. 
Crank  aboKt  to  approve  with  his  stick  again,  but  checks  himsi  If. 

PoTNcE.  Well,  as  you  will.  But  I  believe  in  a  brotherhood  ol  capital 
and  labor.     I  have  done  all  I  can  to  make  you  happy 

Omnes.     You  have,  you  have! 

Pounce.     Whatever  you  demand  you  get! 

Omxes.     We  do,  we  do! 

Poi'NCE.     You  have  struck  repeatedly. 

Omnes.     We  have,  we  have! 

PouxcK.     And  I  3ielded,  invariably. 

O :vr  X  Es .     You  did ,  you  did ! 

Porxc  I..     And  the  consequence  is  that  you  will  strik.    ^ain. 

0:mxi>.     \Ve  will,  we  will! 

Poi  XI  K.  The  upshot  of  which  is,  that  Pounce  &  Co.  do  not  in:.ke 
any  money. 

Omnes.     They  don't,  they  don't! 

Grip  (sardonically).     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

l^VGGH  and  comjjanions.     Ha,  ha,  ha!     (Deliberately.) 

Pounce  (to  them).  You  do  not  seem  to  be  happy.  Y^ou  have  no  fault 
to  find,  I  hope. 

Crip.  Salmon  and  green  peas  have  been  in  for  a  month,  and  also 
spring  lamb;  and  we  have  not  had  as  much  as  a  smell  of  them. 

Pounce.     Bless  me!     Have  n't  you?     It  shall  be  remedied  ;d  once. 

Puggs.  The  lobster  bisque  we  had  for  dinner  yesterday  was  ^•(  ry 
badly  cooked  and  wretched  m  flayor. 

Pounce.  Ah!  Mr.  Crank,  why  was  this?  But  I  forget.  You  are  a 
silent  partner  and  cannot  speak. 

MuGGS.     And  the  pate  de  foie  has  been  anything  but  first-class  ol"  late. 

TuGGS.  Moreover,  the  new  cook  has  not  the  slightest  idea  of  a  mayon- 
naise. 


12  POUNCE    &   CO. 


Sluggs.  And  I  have  twice  had  to  use  milk  on  my  early  strawberries 
instead  of  cream. 

Grip.  While  I  'm  utterly  tired  of  the  eternal  fillet  nml  mushrooms, 
and  would  like  a  chantje. 

For  scK  {hew  lldeyed).  By  all  means!  Anymore'?  Polly,  as  the  prin- 
cipal grumbler  in  the  mill,  you  surely  must  have  some  fault  to  lind. 

Polly.  Yes;  I  ran  a  pin  into  my  finger  this  morning,  and  donH  want 
it  to  happen  again. 

Pounce.  It  sha' n't,  it  sha' n't!  Your  comfort  must  be  obtained  at 
nny  cost,  or  the  whole  purpose  of  my  life  is  defeated.  Capital  is 
the  servant  of  labor,  not  labor  that  of  capital.  Is  it  not  so,  Mr. 
Crank'?  Excuse  me.  As  a  silent  partner  you  cannot  speak.  But 
enough  of  this!  Go  and  enjoy  yourselves.  The  nmsicians  are 
i-eady  and  waiting  for  you.  You  will  have  a  great  treat.  They  are 
going  to  play  Liszt's  "Inferno  "for  you.  Mr.  Crank  will  see  to 
your  comfort  in  his  efficiently  silent  manner,  as  a  silent  partner. 

Chorus. 

Sound,  sound  the  lyre 

To  Thomas  Pounce,  Esquire  1 

Exeunt  Polly,  Crank,  and  work-people.     Grip  and  ru^  companions 
(JO  last,  in  a  gloomy  and  discontented  manner. 

Pounce.  I  am  afraid  I  have  undertaken  too  much  in  trying  to  make 
these  people  entirely  happy.  But  I  '11  persevere.  I  wish  my  girls 
would  take  more  kindly  to  them.  But  they  scorn  to  recognize  the 
son  of  toil  as  their  equals.  And  Crank's  daughters,  too  !  I  should 
think,  however,  that  they  might  refrain  from  saying  anything,  as 
their  father  is  only  a  silent  partner.  There  are  my  nieces,  also, 
which  my  poor  sister  left  me  when  she  left  the  world.  They,  too, 
although  they  have  nothing,  object  to  my  work-people  for  hus- 
bands. But  I  have  registered  a  vow  that  they  all  shall  wed  no- 
body else.  If  I  could  only  induce  them  to  unite  themselves  to  my 
laborers,  what  a  delightful  family  we  should  be!  It  would  make  a 
perfect  union  of  capital  and  labor  ;  and  the  ambition  of  my  exist- 
ence would  culminate.  I  could  then  die  in  peace.  As  it  is,  when 
I  speak  to  them  about  it,  I  am  more  in  danger  of  dying  in  pieces. 
(Looks  off  L.)    Hello  I  my  daughters  ! 


POUNCE    &    CO.  13 


Concerted  Scene. 

EnUr  Eleanor,  Milicent,  and  Sylvia,  each  with  a  bouquet. 

Eleanor,  Milicent,  and  Sylvia. 

Dear  papa,  one  moment  I  pray. 
AVe  bring  to  you,  each,  a  bouquet. 

In  manifestation 

Of  congratulation 
And  daughterly  love  on  this  day. 

Pounce  (affected).     Children,  my  feelings  I  scarce  can  compose; 
A  blessing  apiece  a  fond  father  bestows. 

Enter  Esther,  Laura,  and  Olivia,  each  with  a  bouquet. 

Esther,  Laura,  and  Olivia. 

And,  dear  Mr.  Pounce,  let  us  show. 
In  the  very  slight  gift  we  bestow. 

With  this  genuflection  (courtesy  all) 
The  sincere  affection 
That  unto  pa's  partner  we  owe. 

Pounce  (moved).     Girls,  I  can't  tell  how  my  nature  you  touch, 

You  honor  me  truly  too  much.     Much  too  much! 

All  the  Girls.        At  some  other  time 

That  perhaps  might  be  so ; 
But  certainly  not 
On  your  birthday,  j^ou  know. 

Pounce.  How  silly  I  am. 

I  your  pardon  implore : 
But  I  failed  to  perceive  it 
In  that  light  before. 

Enter  Antigone,  Iphigenia,  Andromache,  Medea,  Jocasta,  and 
Electra,  carrying  bouquets  of  blackberries  in  their  bosoms,  and 
black  fans  in  their  hands.    Iphigenia  bears  a  wreath  of  cypress. 

Antigone  and  companions. 

Dear  uncle,  we  come  our  best  duty  to  pay. 
And  to  wish  very  many  returns  of  the  day. 
What  we  owe  unto  you  we  will  never  forget. 
And  your  kindness  to  us  you  will  never  regret. 

Let  this  attitude  (prayerfully) 

Speak  our  gratitude. 
As  our  gift  on  your  cranium  we  set. 

They  jilace  cypress  wreath  on  his  hm.d. 

Pounce  (diffidently).    AVTiy,  really  and  truly. 
You  praise  me  unduly. 


14  POUNCE    &    CO. 


All  the  (iiuL  ;  (rrmonstrating).     Oh,  no!  Xot  at  all!  'T  is  but  right. 

Pounce  {f^wiyt^ucdy).     It  seems  quite  excessive! 

Girls  (apologetically).     We  hope  not  oppressive":' 

Pounce  (considerately).     Oh,  no! 

Girls  (very  earnestly).  On  your  wordy 

Pounce  (with  hand  on  heart).  Honor  brijzhtl 

Girls.  Then,  pry  thee,  have  no  more  to  say. 

But  take  in  a  sensible  way 

Our  manifestation 

Of  congratulation 
And  joy  on  this  notable  day. 

Pounce  (weeping).    Xo  more,  then,  no  more! 

Eleanor.  You  are  now  sixty-four. 

If  in  twelve  months  from  this  you  're  alive 
There  's  scarcely  a  doubt 
You  will  live  this  year  out 
And  most  likely  attain  sixty-five. 

Ensemble.    You  are  now  sixty-four,  etc. 

Pounce  and  Girls.  'Twill  ensue. 

It  is  true  I 

Pounce.  Ah,  girls,  you  make  me  very  happy,  —  except  when  you 
make  me  miserable. 

Eleanor.    But,  papa,  our  only  object  in  life  is  to  make  you  happy. 

Pounce.  And,  my  dear  child,  rny  only  object  in  life  is  to  be  made 
happy.  That  being  the  case,  why  don't  you  do  as  I  wish  and 
marry  — 

Eleanor.    Your  workmen?  Never. 

Electra.     Except  me!    I '11  marry  anybody. 

Pounce.     Dear  child  I  so  would  I  were  1  in  your  place. 

(To  the  others,)  But  let  me  tell  you  that,  though  you  despise  the  hum- 
ble workingman,  an  honest  heart  beats  in  his  breast. 

Eleanor.    Where  would  you  have  it  beat,  papa? 

Pounce.  True;  Ididn'tthmk  of  that.  However,  seeing  all  I  have 
done  for  you,  I  think  you  might  gratify  me  in  such  a  trifle  as  mar- 
riage. 

Eleanor.    But,  papa,  in  an  affair  that  concerns  our  ])api)iness — 

Pounce.  Your  happiness?  Is  a  father's  happmess  nothmg?  And  as 
for  a  husband,  what  can  it  matter  to  you  whether  you  make  one 
man  miserable,  or  another?  But  as  you  will.  You  don't  marry 
with  my  consent  unless  you  marry  my  way. 

Electra.     I  '11  marry  your  way  or  any  way. 


POUNCE    &    CO.  15 


¥ouNCB  (affectionately).  J  know  yon  will,  darling.  You  are  the  only 
obedient  one  of  the  lot,  and  I  wish  from  my  heart  that  somebody 
had  you.  You  would  prove  a  mother  to  him.  (Kisses  her.)  But  I 
must  go  and  look  after  the  comfort  of  my  people.  Enjoy  yourselves 
in  the  mean  while,  and  take  my  advice. 

Song  and  Chorus. 

Pounce.  You  want  a  husband? 

Girls.  Yes,  we  do! 

Pounce.  Then  pocket  the  first  that  comes  to  you ! 

The  only  way 
To  make  your  hay 
Is  while  the  sun  is  shining! 

Girls.  But  hay  is  not  the  thing  we  need, 

We  want  a  mate  for  life ! 

Pounce.  Indeed? 

Then  take  what  I 
To  you  supply. 
Or  else  go  on  repining!  Exit  Pounce. 

Eleanor.     He  is  careful  enough  about  the   happiness  of  his  work- 
people, but  he  cares  nothing  for  ours. 
Esther.     It  is  certainly  romantic  to  stoop  from  our  high  position  to 

wed  an  inferior. 
Elp.anor.     Yes;  but  it  would  be  fully  as  romantic  if  we  didn't  stoop 

at  all,  and  married  an  equal. 
Sylvia.     Or  still  more  romantic,  if  somebody  stooped  from  a  high 

position  to  marry  one  of  us. 
Eleanor.     Ah  I  you  refer,  perhaps,  to  Arthur  Dobbins;  or,  in  other 

words,  to  Lord  Alfred  Peerage. 
Omnes  (admiringly).    Ah! 
Elkctra.     Ileighol 
Eleanor.     What  a  grand  idea  for  a  lord  to  come  to  the  mill  to  learn  a 

trade  in  case  he  should  ever  become  poor! 
Electra.     But  he  does  n't  work,  unless  smoking  cigarettes  and  reading 

the  last  new  novel  means  work.  . 
Sylvia.      /  found  reading  the  last  new  novel  to  be  very  haixi  work! 

But  isn-t  he  lovely! 
Omnes  (sigJimg).     Oh! 
Eleanor.    And  we  're  all  in  love  with  him! 
Omnes.     We  are! 


16  POUNCE    &    CO. 


Electra.     I  are  —  I  mean  I  am ! 

Eleanor.  But  we  can't  all  have  him,  you  know,  under  the  existing 
state  of  the  marriage  laws;  and,  as  he  hasn't  yet  made  a  choice  of 
any  one  of  us,  we  must,  of  course,  look  out  for  ourselves  and  not 
neglect  our  other  opportunities. 

Electra.     When  we  get  them. 

Esther  (looking  off).  Bless  me!  Look!  There  are  the  bicycle  young 
men,  returning  to  their  camp. 

Electra  (craning  eagerly  on  tiptoe).    So  they  are;  the  darlings! 

Sylvia.     But  why  do  bicycle  young  men  go  into  campV 

Eleanor.    I  can't  imagine,  unless  it  be  for  the  common  weal. 

Esther  (ecstatically).  Ah!  what  joy  to  be  a  bicycle  rider.  What  a 
repose  It  must  be  to  the  weary  head  to  be  able  to  throw  all  one's 
thinking  into  the  feet! 

Sylvia  (dreamily).  When  I  see  a  daring  rider  mounted  on  his 
fiery  bicycle,  speeding  along  over  pebbles  and  across  ruts,  and 
jolting  up  and  down,  I  envy  him  the  exquisite  illusion  that  he  is 
enjoying  himself.  Such  touching  beliefs  in  the  impossible  are, 
alas,  too  rare! 

Esther.    Ah,  yes!    How  earnest  he  looks. 

Eleanor.  And  how  hopelessly  sad !  A  bicycle  rider  has  never  been 
seen  to  smile.  There  must  be  some  hidden  mystery,  like  Free- 
masonry, some  deep  heart  anguish  that  drives  an  mnocent  fellow- 
being  to  bicycle  riding. 

Electra  (convulsively).    Oh,  lovely  thought! 

Esther.  They  go  on  their  way  as  if  they  were  performing  some 
solemn  penance. 

Sylvia.    As  if  they  were  ready  to  preach  a  sermon. 

Eleanor.     Or,  rather,  had  just  heard  one. 

Electra  (waving  her  handkerchief  off).  Poetic  b<^ings;  I  love  you  all  I 
How  d'  ye  do? 

E  LEANOR.     Oh ,  for  shame ! 

Omnes.     That  is  n't  fair. 

Eleanor.  I  do  believe  they  are  coming  this  way.  They  are  coming. 
See  what  you  have  done,  Electra.  Girls,  shall  we  run  away,  or 
stand  our  ground  bravely? 

Electra.     I  run  away  from  no  man. 

Esther.     I  have  frequently  observed  that  in  you. 

Eleanor.  We  will  scorn  to  fly.  But  we  must  not  be  taken  by  sur- 
prise.   Let  us  do  something! 

Omnes.    But  what? 


POUNCE    &    CO.  17 


Eleanor.    Ah,  yes!     AVe   will  be   discovered  studying  our  French 

lesson,  and  refuse  to  notice  them. 
Omnes.     Yes,  yes!     (All  the  girls  take  small  books  from  their  pockets 

or  reticules  and  begin  to  study.) 

Concerted  Scene. 

Omnes.  J^aime,  I  love;  Tu  aimes^  thou  lovest; 
H  aime,  he  loves ! 
Nous  aimons^  we  love;   Vous  aimez,  you  love; 
lis  aiment,  they  love ! 
'T  is  pleasure  all  other  above 
In  studying  Aimer,  to  love. 
J^amais,  I  was  loving;  Tu  aimais,  thou  wert  loving; 

II  aimait,  he  was  loving! 
Ifous  amions,  we  were  loving;   Vous  aimiez,  you  were  loving; 
Us  aimaient,  they  were  loving. 
Yes,  'tis  pleasure  all  other  above, 
In  studying  Aimer,  to  love. 

Electra  {fervently).     tPaime,  1  love'. 
EsTHEiJ.     I^ous  aimons,  we  love! 
Eleanor.     Tu  aimes,  thou  lovest! 
Sylvia.     Nous  aimons,  Nous  aimons,  we  love! 

Enter  Spoke,  Tyre,  Hubbe,  aiid  others  of  the  Bicycle  Oluh,  m  pictur- 
esque costumes.  They  have  heard  the  last  portion  of  the  preceding. 
The  girls  show  to  each  other  a  coy  consciousness  of  the  presence  of 
the  men,  of  whom,  however.^  they  take  no  notice,  hut  turn  their  hacks, 
pretending  not  to  see  them,  and  studying. 

All  the  Men.    T aimer ai,  I  shall  love;  Tu  aimeras  thou  shall  love; 
Elle  aimera,  she  shall  love ! 
Nous  aimerons,  we  shall  love;   Vous  aimerez,  you  shall  love; 
Elles  aimeront,  they  shall  love. 
'T  is  pleasure  all  other  above 
In  studj'ing  Aimer,  to  love. 
Aimons,  let  us  love!  Aiynez,  love  ye! 

Ensemble. 

Girls  (aside).     Such  conduct  as  this  nothing  less 

Than  pure  disrespect  we  may  call; 
Though,  still,  't  is  but  fair  to  confess 
That  we  do  not  dislike  it  at  all! 

Men  (to  girls).     J^aime,  1  love;  Tu  aimes,  thou  lovest; 
EUe  aiine,  she  loves; 
Nous  amons,  we  love;   Vous  aimez,  you  love; 
Us  aiment',  they  love. 


18  POUNCE    &    CO. 


The  men  approach  the  girls,  who  coquettlshly  retreat  to  the  other  side 
and  continue  stuuyiny. 

Half  of  thje  Girls.      Have  you  the  knife 

Of  the  admiral's  wife, 
Or  the  butter  and  flute  of  the  tailor? 

TiiK  OTHER  Half.  I  have  the  gold  shoe 

And  the  leather  corkscrew 
Of  our  neighbor,  the  niece  of  the  sailor! 

Half  of  the  Girls.      Have  you  the  cat, 

With  my  grandfather's  hat, 
Or  the  little  green  sword  of  my  mother? 

The  Men.  I  have  not  this  here. 

And  I  have  not  that  there ; 
And  I  have  not  the  one  nor  the  other! 

Ensemble. 

Girls  (aside).         Such  conduct  as  this  nothing  less 

Than  pure  disrespect  we  may  call. 
Though,  still,  'tis  but  fair  to  confess 
We  do  not  dislike  it  at  all. 

Men.  Xaime,  I  love,  etc. 

Eleanor.    Why  have  you  intruded  upon  us? 

Spoke.     Can  you  ask?     If  we  had  not  intruded,  how  would  it  have 

been  possible  to  speak  to  you? 
Electra.     You  might  have  written! 
Eleanor.     But  what  is  it  that  you  want  to  say  to  us? 
Spoke,  Tyre,  and  Hubbe  (together).     That  we  have  long  loved  you; 

that  you  realize  the  dream  of  our  life. 
Electra  (ecstatically).     I  the  dream  of  your  life.     Oh,  joy! 
Spoke  (politely).     May  I  request  you  to  remember  that  we  said  dream, 

not  nightmare  ? 
Electra  (pZacicZZ?/).     So  you  did. 
Spoke  (to  Eleanor).    Our  object  in  camping  was  to  find  an  excuse  to 

be  near  you. 
Eleanor.    But  we  don't  know  you. 
Tyre.     We  have  taken  that  into  consideration,  and  look  upon  it  in  the 

light  of  an  advantage,  for  us. 
Eleanor  (dreamily).     Perhaps  you  are  right.     But  without  knowing 

us,  how  can  you  love  us? 
Spoke.    It  is  destiny!  All  we  know  is,  that  we  love  you,  and  that  you 

must  be  ours. 


POUNCE    ^:    CO. 


19 


Electra.     Say  no  more!     I  '11  be  yours! 

Spoke  (to  Electra).     But  I  did  n't  ask  you. 

Electra.     And  are  n't  you  going  to? 

Spoke.    It  is  difficult  to  foresee  what  may  happen;  but,  at  present,! 

think  it  is  doubtful. 
Eleanor.*    But  who  are  you? 
Spoke.     I  '11  tell  you. 


Spoke. 


Mex. 

Spoke. 

Men. 


Song  and  Chorus. 

We  're  the  Champion  Bicycle  Club, 
That  all  others  in  riding  can  drub. 

Kot  a  snap  of  the  thumb 

Do  we  care  whence  they  come, 
We  '11  with  any  or  all  try  a  rub ! 
You  may  say  no  good  object  is  won, 
No  particular  benefit  done, 

In  working  one's  legs 

As  if  stepping  on  eggs, 
But  that  proves  you  've  no  feeling  for  fun. 
When  the  bicycle  we  are  astride 
We  are  thrilled  by  delirious  pride. 

Are  we  not? 

We  are! 


Then  a  cheer! 

Huzza  ! 

For  the  glorious  steed  we  ride  ! 
We  're  the  Champion  Bicycle  Club^ 
That  all  others  in  riding  can  drub. 
Not  a  snap  of  the  thumb 
Do  we  care  whence  they  come ; 
All  others  we  can  drub. 

Men  and  Girls.     Huzza  !    Huzza  ! 

For  the  Bicycle  Club. 

II. 

The  bicycle  goes  on  its  course, 
And  never  grows  tired,  like  a  horse; 

Though  we  own  it  is  true 

That  its  riders  oft  do*. 
Plus  occasional  ground  for  remorse. 

Of  all  luxuries  under  the  sun 

To  compare  with  our  sport  is  there  none, 
For  the  rider  perforce 
Does  the  work  of  the  horse. 

So  combines  two  enjoyments  in  one  ! 


20 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


Men. 

Spoke 

Men. 


Men  and  Girls. 

Eleanor  (recit). 

Men  (startled). 

Girls. 

Men. 

Eleanor. 


When  the  bicycle  we  are  astride 
We  are  thrilled  by  delirious  pride. 

Are  we  not  ? 

We  are  ! 

Then  a  cheer! 

Huzza !  , 

For  the  glorious  steed  we  ride. 

We  're  the  Champion  Bicycle  Club, 

And  all  others  in  riding  can  drub. 
Not  a  snap  of  the  thumb  (s7uip  thuiiihs) 
Do  we  care  whence  the}^  come  ; 

All  others  we  can  drub  !     {Business  as  before.) 

Huzza  1     Huzza  ! 

For  the  Bicycle  Club  ! 
That  's  very  satisfactory  !     But  we 
To  you  can  never  more  than  sisters  be. 
What?    Cannot  marry  us?    Oh,  ag-o-nee  I 
Unsay  those  words ! 

We  can't.      .; 

Our  hearts  are  broken. 
'T  is  crushing,  we  admit,  but  fate  has  spoken  ! 
Quintet  and  Chorus   {without  accompaniment).  —  Spoke,  Hubbe, 
Tyre,  Eleanor,  Electka. 
'T  is  but  to  seek  the  pages 

Of  history  to  learn 
That  love  has  been  for  ages 
Opposed  by  parents  stern. 
But  loving  as  we  do  love, 

The  poet's  words  may  soothe. 
Which  say,  "  The  course  of  true  love 

Did  never  yet  run  smooth." 
Though  fate  be  now  a  blighter, 

Denying  comfort's  crumb, 

Our  love  may  bum  the  brighter 

In  the  happy  days  to  come. 

Chorus. 
Our  love  may  burn  the  brighter 
In  the  happy  days  to  come. 

Spoke.  But  what  is  this  blighting  obstacle  that  stands  between  us  and 
the  realization  of  our  dearest  hopes?    Why  can  we  not  marry  you? 

Eleanor.  Because,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  a  wealthy  English  lord 
in  the  mill  who  might  choose  any  one  of  us  at  an}-  moment;  and 
you  must  confess  that  a  lord  would  be  a  more  desirable  match  than 
you. 


POUNCE    &    CO.  21 


Spoke  (sadly).  Undoubtedly!  Far  superior  to  us,  we  admit  — 
(with  reservation)  socially! 

Eleanor.  And,  in  the  next  place,  papa  will  not  consent  to  our  mar- 
rying any  except  the  workingmen  in  the  mill. 

Spoke.  Ah!  a  gleam  of  hope  (resolutely).  Well,  then,  we  will  all 
become  workingmen  in  the  mill. 

Electra.     How  sublime!     You  are  worthy  of  us! 

Spoke.    Yes;  and  we  will  go  and  offer  ouicselves  at  once. 

Chorus  (reprise). 

We  're  the  Champion  Bicycle  Club, 
And  at  labor  we  '11  now  tiy  a  rub. 
Not  a  snap  of  the  thumb 
Do  we  care  whence  they  come ; 
All  workmen  we  can  drub. 

Men  and  Girls.  Huzza!  Huzza! 

For  the  Bicycle  Club! 

Exeunt  all  themeii,  kissing  their  hands  to  the  girls,  who  kiss  their  hands 
in  return;  Electra  effusiveh  . 

Esther.     How  noble  of  them ! 

Sylvia.     How  self-sacrificing. 

Electra.    How  deliciously  devoted ! 

Eleanor.     And  all  for  love!    How  proud  we  should  be  that  we  have 

the  privilege  of  being  girls.     Otherwise  we  could  not  have  inspired 

in    them  this  generous   determination   to  do   something    useful. 

Love  masters  all! 
Electra.     I  can't  say  as  to  that ;  but  I  know  he  masters  me.     He  has 

emptied  his  quiver  into  this  poor  little  heart  until  it  does  nothing 

itself  ])ut  quiver. 

Song.  —  Electra. 

What  is  this  love?    Ah,  well  I  know. 

'T  is  thinking  who  will  marry  you, 
'T  is  dreaming  of  a  grand  trousseau; 

Of  wedding  gifts ;"his  revenue. 
'T  is  waiting  for  the  distant  day 

May  make  you  somebody's  for  life. 
'T  is  wondering  what  there  is  to  pay 
^  That  no  one  asks  you  for  a  wife. 

Ah!  this  is  love  divine. 

The  love  known  to  us  all; 
The  love  we  can't  define. 

Which  holds  us  in  its  thrall. 


22  pouncp:  .k:  co. 


Chorus  (seraphically). 

Yes,  there  is  love  divine, 
The  love  we  can't  detine. 

II. 

What  is  this  love?    Ah,  well  I  know. 

'T  is  dreaming  he  will  ever  be 
The  same  as  when  he  was  your  beau, 

And  begged  your  hand  on  l^ended  knee. 
'Tis  musing  sweetly,  that  if  e'er 

He  should  see  fit  to  change  his  course. 
You  need  not  yield  unto  despair 

While  there  are  lawyers  and  divorce ! 
Yes,  this  is  love  divine, 

The  love  known  to  us  all; 
The  love  we  can't  define, 

Which  holds  us  in  its  thrall. 

Chorus. 

Ah,  this  is  love  divine. 
The  love  we  can't  define . 

Enter  Polly,  running. 

Polly.     Oh,  young  ladies,  Mr.  Pounce  has  sent  me  for  you  ! 

Eleanor.  Of  course!  He  wants  us  to  wait  on  the  work-people 
again,  while  they  are  eating.  That  is  one  of  his  ideas  of  the 
union  of  capital  with  labor. 

Polly.  And  oh!  A  number  of  new  young  men  have  offered  them- 
selves to  work  in  the  mill.     Such  a  splendid  lot! 

Eleanor.  Don't  speak  of  them  as  if  they  were  dry  goods!  Polly, 
did  papa  engage  them? 

Polly.  He  found  out  that  they  knew  nothing  about  spinning  silk, 
and  told  them  he  did  n't  want  them. 

Girls  {disconsolately).     Oh! 

Polly.  And  then  they  offered  handsome  premiums  to  be  allowed  to 
come  and  learn  the  business,  and  he  took  'em  all  in. 

Omnes  (pleased).    Ah! 

Polly.  And  then  the  other  work-people  began  to  scowl  and  to  mut- 
ter, and  there  's  trouble  brewing.  But  I  don't  see  why,  for,  as  the 
3-oung  men  know  nothing  of  the  business,  and  get  no  wages,  I 
don't  see  how  it  can  hurt  anybody.  But  your  pa  is  waiting  for 
you. 

Eleanor.  Come,  girls,  let  us  go  at  once.  Perhaps  we  can  throw  oil 
on  the  troubled  water. 


POUNCE    &    CO.  23 


Polly.  As  some  of  the  hands  have  been  drinking,  I  'm  afraid  you  '11 
have  to  throw  oil  on  the  brandy  and  water. 

Chorus. 

Ko  delay  then, 
Let 's  away,  then, 
And  attempt  this  fire  to  smother. 
Goodness  gracious ! 
How  vexatious! 
First 't  is  one  thing,  then  another! 
He  his  hobby  must  forsake 

Or  our  woes  will  never  end. 
If,  in  time,  a  stitch  he  'd  take, 
Things  would  very  quickly  mend. 

Exeunt  girls. 

Polly.  This  comes  of  trying  to  do  too  much.  Pounce  &  Co.  wantea 
to  equalize  capital  and  labor,  and  now  labor  wants  to  equalize 
Pounce  &  Co.  Equality  is  a  very  nice  thing  in  its  way,  but  it 
does  n't  seem  to  work  very  well.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  it 
means  that  nobody  is  any  better  than  you  are;  but  that  you  are 
infinitely  better  than  anybody  else! 

Enter  Arthur  Dobbins,  in  workingman' s  attire,  elegantly  and  fashion- 
ably made,  with  clean  and  elaborate  cuffs  and  collar,  polished  high- 
lows,  etc.     He  is  smoking  a  cigar  in  a  languid  way. 

DoBBixs.     Ah!  Polly!     Why  are  you  not  with  the  rest  of  the  company 

enjoying  yourself? 
Polly.     They  do  not  want  me.     I  am  too  plebeian  for  them,  because  I 

am  not  above  my  station.     But  I  might  ask  the  same  question  of 

you,  my  lord. 
Dobbins.     Excuse  me,  Polly.     I  again  feel  obliged  to  call  attention  to 

the  important  fact  that  I  am  simple  Arthur  Dobbins  here,  and  I 

must  insist  upon  your  calling  me  so. 
Polly  {impressing  it  on  her  memory).     Simple  Arthur  Dobbins! 
Dobbins  (dryly).    Arthur  Dobbins  will  do,  Polly.     When  I  entered  the 

mill  to  learn  a  trade  I  dropped  my  title  and  my  ancestral  pride 

together. 
Polly.     And  ever  since  you  have  dropped  them  all  the  girls  are  try- 
ing to  pick  them  up. 
Dobbins.     And  are  you  among  themV 
Polly.     Oh!  I  wouldn't  presume  to  stoo|)  to  such  n  thing,  Mr.  Dob- 

bhis. 


24  POUNCE    &    CO. 


Dobbins.     Would  n't  you,  really? .  I  respect  you  for  it. 

Polly.     But  how  are  you  going  to  learn  a  trade  in  the  way  you  are 
going  on?    You  never  come  near  the  work-rooms. 

Dobbins.     I  am  learning  how  to  learn  to  learn,  and  that  is  something 
you  know. 

Polly.     Is  there  surely  no  other  motive  in  your  coming  here? 

Dobbins.     There  is  another  motive,  but  that  is  my  mystery.     You  '11 
find  it  out  by  and  by. 

Polly.     But  can't  I  know  it  now?    A  mystery  is  such  a  luxury! 

Dobbins.  Listen,  then.  I  owe  Mr.  Pounce  a  debt  of  gratitude  I  can 
never  repay.  One  night  he  rescued  the  nephew  of  a  particular 
friend  of  my  brother  from  shame  and  misery.  This  nephew  had 
been  dining  out,  and,  according  to  appearances,  had  imbibed  too 
much  of  an  insidious  cup,  which  he  afterwards  insisted  was 
lobster  salad,  —  but  I  have  always  had  my  doubts  upon  that  point. 
However,  while  under  the  confusing  intiuence  of  lobster,  and 
while  trying  with  a  patent  corkscrew  to  open  the  coal-hole  of  his 
residence,  which  he  doubtless  mistook  for  his  front  door,  Mr. 
Pounce  found  him,  dragged  him  up  the  steps  by  the  coat-collar, 
rang  the  bell,  and  modestly  hastened  away.  That  man  was  the 
young  and  noble  Marquis  of  Bogginagar,  the  nephew,  as  1  say,  of 
a  particular  friend  of  my  brother.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  That  is 
why  I  am  here.  The  rest  is  my  mystery,  which  I  shall  carry  to  the 
grave  with  me,  —  unless  I  divulge  it  before  I  die. 
Polly.    How  remarkable ! 

Dobbins.     You  are  the  only  mortal  to  whom  I  have  breathed  a  word 

of  this;   and  you  would  never  have  heard  it  if  1   did  not  feel 

toward  you  a  something  or  other  which,  so  to  speak,  is,  to  say  the 

least,  very  peculiar. 

Polly  {casting  down  her  eyes).    Oh,  sir!     And  am  I  to  look  upon  that 

in  the  light  of  a  formal  declaration  of  love? 
Dobbins.    By  no  means!  simple  child  of  nature  that  you  are.      Oh, 
how  refreshing  you  are  to  me  after  the  gaudy  and  mocking  artifi- 
cialities of  the  gilded  and  heated  salons   of  nobility.      You  're  a 
flower  of  the  fields  —  a  daisy!     Polly,  can  a  nobleman  stoop  from 


his  high  rank  to  marry  far,  far  beneath  his  station? 
Polly  (fervently).    He  can,  he  can! 
Dobbins.    Can  he  bear  the  reproaches  of  his  caste  for  the  degradation 

of  such  an  alliance? 
Polly  (ecstatically).    Oh,  yes! 
Dobbins  (reflectively).     I  have  often  thought  so  in  the  empty  hours  of 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


1^5 


iiiy  hollow  life.     And,  Polly,  do  you  think  you  could  love  such  a 

titled  and  wealthy  waif  as  I  am? 
Polly   (enthusiastically).    I   know  I  could.     (Buries  her  face  in  his 

bosom.) 
Dobbins.     You  are  a  trifle  premature,  Polly!    (She  is  about  to  recede. 

He  checks  her  and  7'eturns  her  head  to  his  boso7n.)  But  —  it  is  not 

unpleasing  to  me. 

Duetto.  —  Polly  and  Dobbins. 

Dobbins.  AVould  you  mind  telling  me 

If  e'er  your  heart  has  fluttered 
At  sight  of  any  he, 

Or  aught  he  may  have  uttered? 

Polly.  Xot  since  I  long  ago 

Played  house  with  little  AVilly. 
He  was  my  baby  beau, 

When  I  was  young  and  silly. 
Though  but  a  child, 

And  scarce  knee  high, 
My  heart  beat  wild 
When  he  was  nigh, 
Since  then  I  have  not  known  love's  flame 
Till  I  met  one  1  will  not  name. 

Dobbins.  Tell  me,  tell  me,  is  it  I? 

Polly.  Pray  don't  press  for  a  reply. 

I  can't  say. 
Yea  or  nay ! 

Ense:mble. 

Polly.  Ask  me  no  more, 

1  beg  and  implore ; 
For  I  can't  say 
Or  yea,  or  nay ! 

Dobbins.  I  beg  and  implore, 

This  coyness  give  o'er. 
And  quickly  say 
Or  yea,  or  nay! 

Polly.  I  fully. am  aware, 

1  've  won  your  admiration; 
But  know  I  must  forbear 
To  look  above  my  station. 

Dobbixs.  a  cat  may  at  a  king 

J^ook,  if  he  is  inclined  to; 
And  you  at  me  may  fling 
A  glance,  if  you  've  a  mind  to. 


26  rouNCE  &  CO. 


When  but  a  child, 

And  scarce  knee  high, 
Your  heart  beat  wild 
When  one  was  nigh. 
Since  then  have  you  not  known  love's  flameV 

Polly.  Not  ere  I  saw  one  I  '11  not  name. 

Dobbins.  Tell  me,  tell  me,  is  it  I? 

I\)LLY.  If  you  press  for  a  reply 

I  must  say, 
Truly,  yea! 

Ensemble. 

Polly  (aside).  Kow  it  is  o'er, 

I  'm  sure  that  he 
Will  think  no  more 
Of  poor  Pol-lee  I 

Dobbins  (aside).  I  '11  say  no  more, 

Until  I  see 
If  she  adore 
My  rank  or  me ! 

Dobbins  (aside,  recitative).    Dobbins,  reflect  upon  your  high  position! 

That  through  your  veins  flows  azure  blood 
patrician. 

Polly  (aside).     If  he  were  not  a  lord. 

Dobbins  (fervently).  Oh,  Polly,  say  —  (checking  himself). 

J3ut  see,  the  girls  are  coming  all  this  way! 

Finale. 

Enter  Eleanor,  Milicent,  Sylvia,  Esther,  Laura,  Olivia,  Ipiii- 
genia,  Antigone,  Andromache,  Medea,  Jocasta,  and  Elec- 
TRA.     They  surround  Dobbins,  eagerly. 

Girls.  At  last  we  have  a  sight  of  you! 

We  do  not  think  it  right  of  you, 
And  more,  quite  impolite  of  you 

From  us  to  keep  away. 
Because  of  your  passivity,* 
A  painful  inactivity 
Has  marked  the  whole  festivity 

Of  papa's  natal  day. 
Can  we  do  anything  for  youV 
What  is  there  we  can  bring  for  you? 
An  ice,  a  chicken's  wing  for  you? 

You  only  have  to  say! 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


We  '11  get  some  lemonade  for  you 

Or  else  a  marmalade  for  you, 

Or  something  stronger  made  for  you, 

Without  the  least  delay. 
Some  soda  with  a  stick  in  it, 
A  cocktail  with  a  kick  in  it, 
Your  hat,  to  put  a  brick  in  it, 

Command,  and  we  '11  obey! 

Polly  (aside).        Alas!  I  very  plainly  see 

He  will  not  deign  to  think  of  me. 

DoBBiXbi  (aside).     'T  is  very  clear  to  me, 

A  lord's  wife  each  would  be. 

Enter  Spoke,  Tyre,  Hubbe,  a7id  the  rest  of  the  Bicycle  Club  during 
last  bars  of  chorus.  They  gaze  in  astonishment,  and  then  remon- 
strate. 

Spoke,  Tyre,  and  Hubbe.    Ah!  what  is  it  we  behold? 

Do  we  here  a  rival  see? 
Can  it  be  that  we  are  sold? 

Dreadful  thought!  It  cannot  be? 
(To  women.)  What  means  this  duplicity? 

Chorus.  —  Bicycle  Club. 

Yes;  explain  what  here  we  see! 
\Vliat  means  this  duplicity'? 

Elkanou.  What  we  say  or  what  we  do 

We  will  not  excuse  to  you. 

Ensemble. 

G1RL8.     At  last  we  have  a  sight  of  you,  etc. 

Bicycle  Club.    Ahl  what  is  it  we  behold?  etc. 

Polly.     Alas!  I  very  plainly  see,  etc. 

Dobbins.     'T  is  very  clear  to  me,  etc. 

Spoke,  Tyre,  Hubbe.     But,  in  view  of  our  relations. 
We  insist  on  explanations, 
^yhJ  this  fellow  you  caress? 

Club.  Yes,  in  view  of  our  relations, 

AVe  all  ask  for  explanations. 
Why  this  fellow. you  caress? 

Polly,  Dobbins.   //,^/  (tirls.     Fellow! 

Polly.  He  to  whom  you  are  applying 

Words  ail  courtesy  defying 
Is  a  lord,  and  nothing  less! 

Men  (taking  off  hats).     Ah!  can  it  really  be? 


28 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


Men. 
Dobbins. 


Girls  and  Polly  (pointing  proudly  to  him). 

Lord  Alfred  Peerage,  he! 

Then  here  we  kneel  to  you, 

And  pardon  humbly  sue !     (Kneel.) 

For  pardon  offer  no  appeal ; 
To  me  there  is  no  need  to  kneel. 
My  title  here  is  all  a  flam, 
1  only  Arthur  Dobbins  am. 

Men  (contemptuously).    What,  only  Arthur?  Dobbins,  too? 

To  Arthur  Dobbins  we '11  not  sue.     (Theyrise.) 

J5efore  Lord  Alfred  Peerage  we 

Are  willing,  though,  to  bend  the  knee. 

Concerted  (without  accompaniment). 

Bicycle  Club.    What,  only  Arthur?  Dobbins  too?  etc. 

They  frown  on  Arthur!  Dobbins,  too! 
To  Arthur  Dobbins  they  '11  not  sue! 
Before  or  lord,  or  ]  )obbins,  we 
Are  quite  content  to  bend  the  knee. 

They  frown  on  Arthur!  Dobbins  too! 

To  Arthur  Dobbins  they  '11  not  sue. 

As  either  he  's  the  same  to  me. 

To  either  will  I  bend  the  knee.  ^' 


Girls  (aside). 


Polly  (aside). 


Dobbins  (aside).  They  frown  on  Arthur!  Dobbins,  too! 
But  will  unto  Lord  Alfred  sue. 
Strange  that  such  difference  should  be 
'Twixt  tweedle-dum  and  tweedle-dee. 


Enter  Pounce,  in  excitement,  folio  wed  by  Crank. 


Omnes  (recit.) 
Pounce. 


AVTiat  mean  this  perturbation 
And  agitation? 


Omnes. 


Grip. 


I  scarce  can  find  the  words  to  say 
They  've  struck,  and  on  my  natal  day 

•  A  strike  I     Oh,  horror  ! 

Could  they  not  wait  until  to-morror? 

Enter  Grip  and  followers,  also  all  the  icorlc-people. 

We  have  come  here  for  your  answer 

To  our  very  mild  demand. 
Give  it  quickly  as  you  can ,  sir. 

What  are  we  to  understand  ? 


Work-people.     To  our  very  mild  demand 

What  are  we  to  understand  ? 

Pounce.  I  cannot  yield  I  greatly  fear  ! 

Work-people.     You  cannot  yield  ?    What  do  we  hear  ^ 


POUNCE    &    CO.                                                29 

POI'XCK. 

1  've  given  all  that  I  can  give. 
If  you  take  more  I  cannot  live. 
You  surely  would  not  like,  I  know, 
To  see  an  end  to  Pounce  &  Co. 

(illlV. 

We  know  nothing  as  to  that ; 

We  want  more  money,  and  that's  flat! 

J\)LLY. 

Monsters! 

Girls. 

Monsters  without  mercy! 

Grip. 

Well,  we  think  it 's  vice-versy. 

Polly 

Are  no  hearts  within  yoii  lurking? 

Dobbins  (as 

ide).     Good  I  my  mystery  is  working! 

Skstet  and 

Chorus. —Pounce,   Dobbins,   Spoke,   Grip,  Polly, 
Eleanor. 

Pounce. 

If  I  should  yield  to  your  demand 

'T  would  utter  ruin  be; 
For  you  the  masters  would  become, 

The  working-people  we! 

Grip. 

Indeed!  then  we  shall  persevere 
And  carry  out  our  will. 

For  we  would  greatly  like  to  be 
The  owners  of  the  mill! 

Dobbins. 

Spoke. 

Polly 

'T  is  very,  very  odd  to  me. 

And  very,  very  strange! 
The  reason  why  I  cannot  see 

For  such  unheard-of  change. 
Ah!  had  he  been  content  to  leave 

These  people  in  their  station. 
He  had  not  then  had  cause  to  grieve 

At  such  a  culmination. 

Ensemble. 

Pounce. 

If  I  should  yield  to  your  demand 

'T  would  utter  ruin  be; 
For  you  the  masters  would  become, 

The  working-people  we. 

Girls. 

If  he  should  yield  to  their  demand 

'T  would  utter  ruin  be; 
For  they  the  masters  would  become, 

And  but  a  workman  he. 

Grip. 

Yes,  we  would  greatly  like  to  be 
The  owners  of  the  mill. 

30 


I*OUNCE    &    CO. 


Dobbins  and  Spoke. 


Polly. 
Eleanor. 


'T  is  very,  very  odd  to  me, 
And  very,  very  strange. 
The  reason  why  I  cannot  see 
For  this  unheard-of  change. 

Ah!  they  the  masters  then  would  be, 
And  but  a  workman  he. 


Ah,  me!     Ah,  me! 
Unhappy  we ! 


Chorus. 


-Workmen  and  Bicycle  Club. 

"I*  is  very  plain  that  we 
The  masters  soon  will  be. 


Silent  Song.  —  Crank. 

Crank,  in  a  staie  of  great  excitement^  comes  forward  and  siyigs  a  song 
in  gesture,  as  the  silent  partner.  He  manifests  his  discontent  with 
the  entire  proceedings,  shakes  his  fists  at  the  workmen,  and  expresses 
indignation  at  their  course. 

Chorus. 

No,  no! 

It  is  not  so. 
Upon  my  word. 
It  is  absurd. 
Such  awful  language  I  ne'er  heard! 

At  end  of  song  Crank  strikes  his  stick  on  stage,  goes  up  indignantly,  and 
meets  the  sympathy  of  the  girls. 

Grip  (to  Pounce).     We  wait  your  answer.     What  have  you  to  say? 
You  can't  refuse  upon  your  natal  day. 

Chorus  (argiimentatively). 

You  can't  say  nay 
Upon  your  natal  day ! 

Yes,  at  this  hour, 
I  'm  in  their  power. 

Come  aid  me,  fertile  brain, 
I  yield  to  you. 
Then  we'll  strike,  too. 

And  get  all  back  again. 

Ah,  joy! 

Chorus. 

Ah,  joy! 


Pounce  (aside). 


(Ahud.) 
(Aside.) 

Grip. 


Ensemble. 

Grip  and  Work-people. 

We  're  masters  here,  at  last,  what  bliss! 
We  'd  not  the  least  idea  of  this; 
The  mill  is  properly  our  own, 
For  we  the  money  make  alone. 
These  girls  who  e'er  on  us  have  frowned, 
Now  kneel  before  us,  on  the  ground. 
We  '11  sneer  and  jeer  to  view  them  thus, 
As  they  have  sneered  and  jeered  at  us. 

Dobbins  and  Spoke,  Tyre  and  Hubbe. 

I  ne'er  saw  such  a  move  as  this; 

Or  fate  so  queerly  go  amiss, 

These  dogs  will  quarrel  o'er  the  bone, 

And  each  insist  it  is  his  own, 

But  fortune's  wheel  will  turn  around, 

And  those  who  now  are  on  the  ground 

Will  to  the  top  rise  ominous, 

To  punish  all  who  use  them  thus. 

Girls  (<o  work-people). 

You  cannot  mean  to  act  like  this. 
And  drag  us  all  to  woe  from  bliss; 
You  will  not  Pounce  &  Co.  dethrone, 
And  take  from  them  what  is  their  own. 
{Kneel.')  See,  meekly  kneeling  on  the  ground, 

At  your  large  feet  in  grief  profound, 
We  beg  you  will  not  treat  us  thus, 
But  show  you  are  magnanimous 

Bicycle-men  (to  Girls). 

We  ne'er  saw  such  a  change  as  this, 
Or  fate  so  queerly  go  amiss  ; 
A  wealthy  firm  thus  overthrown 
By  silly  sentiment  alone. 
Don't  kneel  before  them,  on  the  ground, 
But  here,  against  our  hearts,  be  found. 
The  course  you  take  in  acting  thus 
Is  far  from  flattering  to  us. 

Polly  (to  Pounce). 

Don't  take  it,  pray,  so  much  amiss. 
You  '11  even  get  with  them  for  this* 
You  owe  it  to  yourself  alone 
That  such  bad  treatment  vou  have  known  ! 


{To  work-people  ) 

'T  will  not  be  long  ere  you  have  found  - 
You  've  run  your  pirate  ship  aground. 
And  then  you  '11  feel  ridiculous 
For  ever  having  acted  thus. 

Pounce  (to  Polly). 

I  ne'er  expected  aught  like  this, 
From  those  I  never  used  amiss. 
I  see  that  you  deserved,  alone, 
The  kindness  I  to  them  have  shown. 
(Aside.)  'T  will  not  be  long  ere  they  have  found 

They  've  got  into  a  hole  profound  ; 
And  then  for  help  they  '11  look  to  us 
And  think  they  were  ridiculous. 

Crank  goes  from  one  group  to  another,  gesticulating  excitedly.  At  end 
Electra  throws  herself  wildly  on  Grip's  neck  and  sohs  hysteri- 
cally.    The  work-people  repulse  the  kneeling  girls. 


End  of  Act  I. 


POUNCE    &    CO.  33 


ACT   II. 

Scene.  — Interior  of  the  mill. 

Eleanor,  Milicent,  Sylvia,  Esthp:k,  Laura,  Olivia,  Iphigenia, 
Antigone,  Andromache,  Medea,  Jocasta,  Electra,  discov- 
ered spinning  at  machines. 

Chorus. 

Tic-a-tac-a-ticI  the  spindle  darts 

In  and  out  all  cheerily. 
Pit-a-pat-a-pit!  too,  go  our  hearts. 

But  they  go  all  wearily! 
The  wheels  move  on  their  tireless  way, 
And  weave  their  work  from  day  to  day. 
For  other's  fabrics  rich  and  gay, 
For  us  hours  passing  drearily. 
Tic-a-tac!    Tic-a-tac! 
Pit-a-pat!    Pit-a-pat! 
Joy  and  sorrow  blending  ; 
And,  far  as  we 
At  present  see. 
Without  a  chance  of  ending. 

At  end  of  the  chorus  a  steam  whistle  sounds  outside  on  the  last  note. 

Eleanor.  Dinner  hour!  Heigho!  What  a  change  since  pa's  birth- 
day, a  week  ago. 

Esther.  If  he  had  n't  had  a  birthday  I  am  sure  this  would  never 
have  happened. 

Electra.     I  make  it  a  point  never  to  mention  my  birthday. 

Eleanor.     It 's  such  an  old  story  with  you,  dear. 

Sylvia.     All  of  our  bright  dreams  gone! 

Electra.  All  of  my  hopes  crushed  irrevocably,  perhaps!  Of  course. 
Lord  Alfred  Peerage  would  not  think  of  marrying  me  now ! 

Eleanor.  And  what  is  worse,  I  do  not  see  when  matters  are  going 
to  mend.  We  might  marry  those  delightful  bicycle  young  men  if 
it  were  not  our  duty  to  wait  and  see  if  Lord  Alfred  chooses  one  of 
us.  I  wish  he  would  decide  one  way  or  another,  and  put  us  out  of 
suspense. 


34  POUNCE    &    CO. 


Song.  —  Eleanor. 

I  know  if  I  could  marry 

I  'd  make  a  tender  wife  ; 
Unto  my  spouse  I  'd  carry 

A  love  to  last  for  life. 
And  without  reservation 

1  'd  him  obey,  —  that 's  flat! 
Though,  on  consideration, 

I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that. 

ir. 

I  'd  live  but  for  his  pleasure, 

And  be  but  his  alone  ; 
His  happiness  I  'd  treasure 
t  And  guard  it  as  my  own. 

Such  folly  as  flirtation 

I  never  would  be  at,  —  " 

Though,  on  consideration, 

I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that! 

EiiECTRA.     Fie!  giddy  girl! 

Enter  Polly. 

Polly.    It  is  dinner  time,  you  know. 

Eleanor.     Dinner  time!    Yes,  and  a  nice  dinner,  too.     Cold  ham  and 

tea;  and  we  have  to  provide  it  for  ourselves.     When  I  think  how 

Pounce  &  Co.  fed  their  present  tyrants  on  the  fat  of  the  land  I 

could  cry  my  crimps  out  of  curl. 
Polly.    Don't  grieve.    It  will  come  all  right  again,  l»y  and  by.     It's 

the  old  story.     The  cat  and  the  mouse  don't  play  together.     You 

know  the  fable. 

Song.  —  Polly. 

A  calico  cat  sat  beguiling 

His  time  near  a  hole  in  the  floor. 
And  his  face  so  completely  was  smiling 

It  could  not  contain  a  smile  more. 
The  cause  of  his  pleasing  reflection 

Was  a  mouse,  upon  which  he  could  feed. 
So  he  waited  with  keen  circumspection 

For  the  dinner  of  which  he  had  need. 
And  he  watched  and  he  blinked. 

And  he  lazily  winked. 

Girls  (interested).  He  winked? 

Polly.  Yes!    But  never  he  purred, 

As  he  thought  — 
Girls.  Ah!  bethought! 


POUNCE    &    CO.  35 


Polly.  Of  the  mousse,  yet  iincaught, 

Till  it  seemed  to  him  rather  absurd. 

At  last,  after  careful  debating, 
To  him  it  was  made  very  clear, 

That  't  was  idle  the  mouse  there  awaitiuLT 
If  the  mouse  did  not  choose  to  appear. 

Chorus  (conclusively). 

It  was  idle  the  mouse  there  awaiting, 
If  the  mouse  did  not  choose  to  appear! 

II. 
A  mouse  in  his  hole  lay  a-thinking,  — 

A  very  green  mouse,  I  must  add,  — 
And  his  sharp  little  eyes  were  a-wiuking, 

And  his  thoughts  were  exceedingly  sad. 
His  heart  overflowed  with  dejection 

At  the  war  which  the  calico  cat 
Made,  with  cruel  and  sad  predilection. 

On  the  lives  of  the  mouse  and  the  rat-. 
80  he  pondered  and  thought. 

And  carefully  sought — 

Girls  (inquiringly).  He  sought? 

Polly.  Yes,  he  sought,  and  at  last, 

He  found  — 

GirIjS  (in  surprise).  Ah!  he  found! 

Polly.  What  appeared  neutral  ground 

Upon  which  he  could  bind  fiiendship  fast! 

After  breakfast  he  went  in  the  morning 
To  make  on  the  cat  a  short  call ; 

But  the  cat  ate  him  up  without  warning,— 
Good  motives,  and  folly,  and  all! 

Chorus  (sententiously). 

Ah!  the  cat  ate  him  up  without  warning, — 
Good  motives,  and  folly,  and  all. 

Polly.  On  the  moral  I'll  now  raise  the  curtain, — 

'T  is  brief  and  should  ne'er  be  forgot : 
When  a  cat  hunts  a  mouse  'tis  uncertain  ; 
When  a  mouse  hunts  a- cat  it  is  not! 

Chorus. 

When  a  cat  hunts  a  mouse  'tis  uncertain! 
When  a  mouse  hunts  a  cat  it  is  not! 

The  (jirls  take  their  dinner  pails  and  dance  off. 


36  POUNCE    &   CO. 


Polly.  I  am  very  sorry  for  them;  but  then,  of  course,  they  are 
naturally  sorry  for  themselves,  and  it  does  n't  seem  to  do  them  any 
good.  A  week  ago  thej^  would  n't  condescend  to  look  upon  the 
workmen,  and  to-day  the  workmen  do  condescend  when  they  look 
on  them,  — and  so  the  world  goes  round  ;  but  if  it  did  n't  go  round 
something  dreadful  would  happen,  so,  perhaps,  in  the  long  run,  it 
is  just  as  well. 

Enter  PouxcE,  dressed  as  a  common  workman;  he  has  a  square  paper 
hat  on  his  head,  and  a  tin  dinner  pail  in  his  hand. 

Pounce.     Ah,  Polly!    Are  you  there?    But  of  course  you  are,  or  1 

could  n't  see  you. 
Polly.  te[ow  are  you,  sir? 
Pounce.    Don't  be  respectful  to  me,  Polly,  please!     Call  me  Tommy, 

or  "Hi-say!"   or  something  of  that  kind.     I'm  only  a  common 

workman,  you  know. 
Polly.     A  workman,  perhaps,  yes;    but  a  really  uncommon  one. 

Never  will  I  be  disrespectful  to  you  after  all  you  have  done  for  me. 
Pounce.    But  I  never  did  anything  for  you.    Perhaps  that  accounts  for 

it.      You  always  insisted  upon  knowing  your  station,  and  it  would 

seem  that  a  person  who  knows  his  station  will  never  feel  out  of 

place  in  it.     But  leave  me  now,  Polly  ;  I  want  to  eat  my  frugal 

meal  in  select  privacy. 
Polly.    What  can  I  do  for  you?  * 

Pounce  (reflectively).    Do  for  me?  Nothing,  Polly.     The  others  have 

done  for  me. 
Polly.     You  have  only  to  call  on  me  if  you  Mant  anything. 

Exit  Polly,  r.  1  e. 

Pounce.  Call  on  her  if  I  want  anything!  But  I  want  everything. 
She  surely  can't  mean  to  say  she  has  it.  And  if  she  has,  will  she 
give  it  to  me  if  I  ask  for  it?  Of  course  not!  The  decrees  of  fate 
are  very  strange.  A  week  ago  I  was  master;  to-day  I  am  a  work- 
man. 1  must  say  I  do  not  exactly  understand  the  principle  yet. 
Neither  does  Crank,  though  as  silent  partner  he  was  obliged  to  go 
with  the  assets  of  the  firm.  By  the  way,  he  is  making  up  for  lost 
time.  His  appetite  for  talk  is  really  gluttonous.  He  wants  it  all. 
I  liked  him  better  when  he  was  silent  by  contract.  Of  course,  as 
he  is  no  longer  a  silent  partner,  silence  cannot  be  demanded  of 
him. 

Enter  Crank  as  a  workman.    He  carries  a  tin  dinner  pail. 


POUNCE   &    CO.  37 


Crank.     Ah!  there  you  are!     I  thought  so! 

Pounc;e.  1  dou't  call  that  a  good  guess,  as  jou  saw  me  before  you 
arrived  at  that  conclusion.  It 's  the  only  conclusion  you  've  come 
to  since  you  began  to  talk. 

Crank  (very  rapidly).  That  -s  a  joke.  I  enjoy  a  joke.  I  enjoy  every- 
thing that  gives  an  opening  to  conversation. 

Pounce  (interrupting).  But  you  don't  seem  to  enjoy  anything  that 
gives  a  close  to  it! 

Crank  (always  rapidly).  Ha,  ha!  Have  you  had  dinner  yet?  Of 
course  not.  We  '11  dine  together  and  share.  We  '11  have  two 
courses.  Mine  is  all  coarse.  Pie  and  coffee.  Not  particularly 
nourishing,  but  I  don't  know  that  nourishment  is  necessary.  Quite 
different  .from  our  model  workmen,  with  their  salmon  and  green 
peas,  and  fillet  and  mushrooms.  The  reason  they  came  up  so  quick 
was  because  you  fed  them  so  much  on  mushrooms.  Well,  I  don't 
complain;  as  a  common  workman  I  am  content  to  put  up  with 
workman's  commons  (stops  suddenly). 

Pounce  (^who  has  tried  to  speak).    Have  you  done? 

Crank.  Yes,  till  I  get  breath  again.  It  "s  such  a  luxury  to  speak 
after  my  long  silent  partnership  that  I  don't  seem  to  get  enough 
of  it. 

Pounce.  I  do,  though!  If  you  '11  remain  quiet  for  a  moment  I  '11 
tell  you  of  an  idea  I  have  got.  I  have  resolved  to  strike,  and  to 
keep  on  striking  till  we  get  the  mill  back  again,  and  I  'm  going  to 
begin  to-day.     It 's  our  only  plan. 

Crank  (always  volubly).  Superb  idea  !  if  it  works  out  in  all  its 
details.  I  can't  see  for  my  part  why  it  should  n't.  In  fact,  from  a 
practical  point  of  view  it  is  worthy  of  the  most  profound  intellect 
of  the  time  ;  and  from  other  points  of  view  it  is  worthy  the  intel- 
lect of  the  most  profound  thinker  of  anytime,  past  or  to  come, — 
particularl}^  to  come.  (With  enjoyment).  Ah!  what  a  luxury  it 
is  to  talk  !  I  envy  Coleridge,  Dr.  Johnson,  Macaulay,  and  the 
other  great  talkers  !   (Suddenly  stops ^  ivinded.) 

Pounce.     You  need  n't.     You  can  talk  enough  for  all  of  them. 

Duet.  —  Pounce  dnd  Crank. 

Pounce. 

'Tis  pleasant  oft  to  dance, 
With  easy  complaisance, 
In  graceful  consonance 

To  music's  witchino:  flow. 


38 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


Again,  it  seems  to  me, 
That  there  may  chance  to  be 
Some  kind  of  ecstasy, 

In  drawiuu-  of  the  bow. 


Crank  {volubly}. 

I  catch  at  your  thought  with  rapidity, 
Own  to  its  perfect  lucidity. 
Take  to  it  with  a  fervidity  . 

Nothing  can  ever  undo. 
You  mean  you  have  danced  with  agility, 
Mingled  with  patient  docility, 
Kow  you  would  show  your  ability 

Making  the  piper  dance,  too. 

Pounce.  The}-  shall  dance  excitedly, 

Crank.  They  shall  dance  benightedly. 

Pounce.  Also  undelightedly, 

When  I  the  melody  play  ! 

Crank.  And  for  their  austerity, 

And  their  insincerity. 

Pounce.  Likewise  their  temerity, 

They  shall  dearly  pay  ! 

Crank.  The  hateful,  elateful,  ungrateful,- 

Abusive,  intrusive,  collusive, 
Betraj'ing,  inveighing,  dismaying 
Usurpers  of  what  should  be  ours  ! 

Pounce.  If  e'er  we 

Masters  again  should  be, 

Then  you  '11  see. 

They  '11  dance  to  the  best  of  their  powers  ! 

Enter  Grip,  followed  by  Ruggs,  Tuggs,  Sluggs,  and  Muggs.  They 
loear  blue  coats  with  brass  buttons,  nankeen  trousers  and  gaiter s, 
and  have  a  general  air  of  great  respectability  and  easy  condescension. 

Grip.    Ah!  my  lads!     Enjoying  yourselves,  eh!     Well,!  like  to  see 

our  people  taking  recreation. 
Crank.    Yes,  that  is  all  you  have  left  them  to  take. 
Ruggs  and  companions.    Ah!     (All  take  a  pinch  of  snuff,  close  their 

boxes,  dust  their  shirt  frills,  and  return  their  boxes  to  their  pockets, 

simultaneously.) 
Grip.    The  happiness  of  our  workmen  is  our  chief  care. 
Crank.     Yes,  after  your  own  has  been  fully  attended  to.     When  they 

are  happy  you  get  more  work  out  of  them,  and  it  is  scarcely  neces- 


POUNCE    &   CO.  39 


sary  to  add  to  a  person  of  youi-  remarkably  keen  perceptive  facul- 
ties that  you  want  all  the  work  you  pay  for  and  as  much  more  as 
you  can  obtain  free  of  cost.  Under  these  uncommonly  exceptional 
circumstances,  therefore  — 

Grip  (interrupting).  Ah,  yes!  As  we  do  not  pay  for  your  ver}-  elo- 
quent conversation  we  do  not  feel  that  we  have  an}'  right  to  expect 
you  to  throw  that  in.  It  would  be  unjust  to  you,  and  painful, 
peculiarly  painful  to  us. 

RuGGS  and  companions.  Distressingly  painful!  (About  to  sneeze, 
but  do  not,) 

Crank  (volubly).  But  have  you  the  remotest  idea  how  much  more 
painful  it  is  to  me  to  restrain  my  brilliant  flew  of  thought  and  its 
expression  in  still  more  brilliant  language?  Man  is  essentially  a 
speaking  animal.  It  was  never  intended  in  the  economy  of  nature 
that  there  should  be  such  things  as  silent  partners.  They  are  an 
artificial  product  of  a  degenerate  era.  Language  may  have  been 
given  to  man  to  conceal  his  thoughts,  but  surely  thought  was  not 
given  to  man  to  conceal  his  language.  Absurd!  In  fact,  the  insu- 
perability of  articulate  speech  as  a  concomitant  in  the  daily  happi- 
ness of  mankind  is  conceded  by  all  reflective  minds  with  a  uni- 
formity that  very  closely  approaches  universality.    (Stoj^s,  winded.) 

Grip  (sarcastically).    You  are  eloquent. 

Craxk.    Oh!  that's  nothing  to  what  I  can  do  upon  a  nutritious  diet. 

Grip  (grimly).  Indeed!  You  have  given  me,  then,  an  excellent  ex- 
cuse for  starving  you. 

Crank  goes  up  offended,  and  begins  to  busy  himself  with  the  machinery. 

Pounce.    What  I  want  to  say  to  you  is,  that  we  have  resolved  to 

strike  for  an  increase  of  wages. 
Grip.    A  strike ! 
RuGGS  and  companions.     A  strike!  (All  sneeze  in  their  handkerchiefs 

and  return  them  to  their  pockets  simultaneously.) 
Grip.     Could  n't  think  of  it,  my  good  man. 

Crank,  who  has  been  meddling  with  the  machinery,  suddenly  sccs  it  going. 

Crank.     Hallo!  stop  there !  Help  me !'  It  has  nearly  taken  m}-  finger  oflf. 
Grip  (stopping  machinery).    I  wish  it  had  taken  your  tongue  off. 
Pounce.     If  you  remember,  sir.  Pounce  &  Co.  always  yielded  when 

j^ou  struck. 
Grip  (with  moral  loftiness).     Yes;  and  see  where  they  are! 
RuGGS  and  companions.     Or  rather,  where  they  are  not. 


Pounce.  Without  any  desire  to  be  disrespectful  to  my  employers, 
might  I  observe  that  I  fed  you  on  the  fat  of  the  land. 

Grip  (considerately).  May  I  observe  that  you  should  have  put  away 
some  of  the  fat  for  a  rainy  day.  But  capital  must  not  be  too  hard 
on  labor!    Of  what  do  you  complain? 

Trio  and  Chorus. 

Pounce  (with  fervor).    We  've  had  no  green  peas, 

Though  they  've  long  been  in  season ; 
jSiO  salmon  one  sees! 

And  I  ask  you  the  reason. 
'T  is  exceedingly  strange,  you  must  frankly  admit, 
That  of  early  spring  lamb  we  have  not  had  a  bit! 

Grip.  What  you  say  is  quite  ti'ue! 

I  've  no  reason  to  doubt  it; 
But  remark  unto  you 

We  care  nothing  about  it. 
If  you  want  peas  and  salmon,  I  cannot  see  why 
Peas  and  salmon  you  hesitate  longer  to  buy. 

ENSE3IBLE. 

Crank  and  Pounce.  Is  there,  then,  no  compensation 
For  this  cruel  deprivation 
Of  these  objects  of  gustation, 
That  we  like  unto  excess  ? 
Our  indignation 
And  vexation, 
Then,  at  least,  we  can  express  ! 

Grip.  In  your  humble  avocation 

Such  a  taste  needs  palliation, 
It  is  folly,  —  nothing  less  ! 

Omnes,  Salmon  and  peas  ! 

Nothing  but  these? 

Pounce.  It  is  not  this  alone ; 

We  've  had  no  new  potatoes. 

Crank.  And  you  likewise  must  own, 

Neither  early  tomatoes. 

Grip.        Unto  this  I  have  nothing  to  answer  but  "  Bosh  !  " 

Pounce  and  Crank.     We  have  said  nothing,  either,  of  young  sum- 
mer squash. 

TuTTi.  Salmon  and  peas. 

Tomatoes. 
Potatoes. 


POUNCE   &    CO.  41 


Grip.     My  good  people  — 

Crank  (interrupting  volubly).  I  know  what  you  're  going  to  say. 
You  are  about  to  observe  that  soonet  than  comply  with  our  just 
demands  in  respect  to  the  better  supply  of  the  larder  from  which 
our  inner  man  is  recruited,  you  will  see  us  considerably  farther 
than  it  is  likely  we  shall  travel  before  our  spirit  is  released  from  its 
earthly  prison  ;  and  that  — 

Grip  (interrupting),  Xothing  of  the  kind.  What  I  am  going  to  say 
is  that  we  can't  be  expected  to  find  our  people  their  meals  or  to 
feed  them  on  luxuries. 

Pounce.  But  Pounce  &  Co.  found  your  meals  and  fed  you  on  luxu- 
ries. 

Grip.     True,  and  kept  me  constantly  bilious. 

Ruaos  and  companions.     And  dyspeptic. 

Crank.  Will  you  permit  me  to  impress  upon  you  that,  to  our  past  joy 
and  our  present  sincere  sorrow,  we  did  our  best  to  make  you 
happy? 

Grip.    Did  you? 

Crank.  Did  n't  we?  If  we  didn't  we  didn't;  but  if  we  didn't,  we 
didn't  fail  because  we  didn't  try. 

Pounce.     Of  what  do  you  complain?  * 

Chant.  —  Grip. 

Life  was  joyous  till  you  made  it 

With  small  miseries  complete  ; 
Till  you  rashly  tried  to  change  me 

To  an  Oscar  Wilde  issthete  ; 
Till  my  walls  you  daubed  with  sunflowers, 

And  my  soul  you  froze  with  frieze  ; 
And  with  bric-k-brac  and  dado 

Robbed  my  days  and  nights  of  ease  ; 
Till  through  you  the  world  and  nature 

In  a  stained-glass  light  was  seen  ; 
And  my  milk  was  tinted  purple, 

And  my  butter  emerald  green.  i 

All  because  of  your  insanity 
On  the  subject  of  Queen- Anneity 

n.  . 
When  I  asked  that  you  my  wages 

To  a  living  point  should  raise, 
You  replied  with  an  old  teapot 

Or  a  cracked  Satsuma  vase ; 
And  my  roof  you  painted  scarlet, 

And  my  doors  had  cabbage-hued  ; 


42  POUNCE    &    CO. 


And  for  windows  gave  me  bull's  eyes, 

Through  which  nothing  could  be  viewed. 
Ugly  plates  in  every  corner 

Of  my  walls  you  tried  to  squeeze; 
And  wh^it  was  not  hideous  English 
Was  more  hideous  Japanese  ; 
Till  I  tired  of  your  insanity 
On  the  subject  of  Queen- Anneity. 

Pounce.    The  strike  is  evidently  a  failure. 

Crank.     Ghastly  and  irrevocably. 

Pounce.  And  yet  it  seems  to  me  it  should  have  succeeded.  It  always 
did  when  you  tried  it  ;  there  is  something  remarkable  in  the  fact 
that  it  won't  work  both  ways. 

Gkip.     My  good  man  — - 

Crank  (interrupting  volubly).  I  know  what  you  're  going  to  say. 
You  would  infer  that  because  one  man  is  an  ass  there  's  no  reason 
why  another  man  should  be  a  donkey  ;  that  if  one  man  is  a  goose 
there  is  no  law  of  nature  that  compels  nine  other  men  to  become 
ganders  for  the  mere  sake  of  keeping  him  company;  that  if  a  man 
who  has  a  bird  in  his  hand  lets  it  go  he  cannot  expect  that  two  birds 
in  the  bush  will  come  to  him  and  entreat  him  on  their  bended 
knees  to  take  them  by  the  necks.  This,  I  surmise,  is  the  sum  and 
substance  of  most  earthly  philosophy.  Life  is  made  up  of  things 
that  ought  to  be,  but  are  not. 

Pounce.  And  of  things  that  are,  but  ought  not  to  be.  These  thoughts 
never  occur  to  us  before  we  are  born,  or  we  might  shape  our  lives 
differently. 

Crank.  As  an  humble  concomitant  in  the  family  of  the  humanly 
developed  protoplasm  — 

Grip  (interrupting).     Enough  of  this! 

Crank.  It  is  vei-y  strange  that  I  cannot  find  an  opportunity  to  speak 
without  interruption.  If  I  am  not  permitted  to  say  what  I  think 
I  '11  sing  it. 

Song.  —  Crank. 

There  's  little  in  life  of  variety,  — 
You  either  succeed  or  you  fail; 
You  've  nothing,  enough,  or  satiety,  — 
At  fortune  you  smile  or  you  rail. 
And  so,  do  I  say, 
Time  goes  on  its  way 
From  day  unto  day, — 
And  there  you  are! 


POUNCE    &    CO.  43 


II. 

My  mind  is  made  up  most  conclusively. 

The  pavement  of  life  is  strewn  o'er 

With  orange  peel,  scattered  delusively, 

To  cause  you  to  trip  evermore. 

Unthinking  of  wrong, 

Perhaps  humming  a  song. 

You  wander  along, — 

When  —  there  you  are ! 

III. 

In  our  path  Fate  has  slyly  distributed 

Slight  obstacles  free  from  alami ; 
There  a  stone  she  has  quietly  contributed, 
There  a  hat,  unsuspected  of  harm. 
Foreseeing  no  trick, 
You  give  it  a  kick. 
To  find  there  's  a  brick, 
And  —  there  vou  are! 


In  fact,  life  is  full  of  contrariness, 

A  species  of  thimble-rig  game, 
In  which,  though  you  watch  with  all  wariness, 
You  're  certain  to  lose,  all  the  same. 
You  're  ready  to  swear 
The  pea  is  right  there. 
When,  lo!  it  is  here, 

And — there  you  are.' 

Grip.    That 's  all  very  well  — 

PoiTXCE.     On  the  contrary,  it 's  all  very  ill. 

Grip.    We  really  cannot  permit  our  work-people  to  address  us  in  this 

fashioji.     It  savors  too  much  of  insubordination. 
KuGGS  and  companions.     And  of  equality-. 
Crank.     If  I  might  be  allowed  — 
Grip.     Which  you  can't  be ! 
Crank.    Only  a  few  words. 
Giirp.     Impossible;  you  '11  talk  us  to  death. 
CitAXK.     I  wish  I  could. 

Ejiter  Spoke,  Hubbe,  Tyre,  and  the  rest  of  the  Bicycle  Cluh. 
Spoke.     Ah,  Mr.  Pounce. 
PorN(E.     Excuse  me!  As  a  laborer  I  must  insist  upon  beinij  called 

Tommy,  Old  Man,  a  Cully,  or  ><»iiu'thing  of  that  comp;inionable 

kind. 


44  POUNCE    &    CO. 


Spoke.  Never!  Because  you  have  made  a  jolly  old  idiot  of  yourself, 
do  you  think  you  have  fallen  in  my  estimation?  Never!  I  like 
you  the  better  for  it;  for  it  shows  how  simple  you  are.  Does  n't 
it,  boys? 

Bicycle  Men.    It  does,  it  does! 

PomsrcE.    It 's  very  kind  of  you,  I  'm  sure. 

During  this  conversation  Crank  tries  to  speak,  hut  is  prevented.  He 
then  goes  to  Ritggs  and  his  companions  and  converses  with  them 
volubly,  using  rax>id  gesticulation.  They  are  aghast  at  his  volubil- 
ity and  try  to  avoid  him,  but  he  follows  them  about. 

Grip.  Excuse  me,  Spoke,  but  I'm  glad  you  are  here,  because  I  have 
a  few  words  to  say  to  you.  Business  in  the  mill  is  neglected, 
owing  to  your  propensity  to  flirt  with  the  girls. 

RuGGS  and  his  companions  seek  safety  from  Crank's  volubility  by 
flight.     He  follows  them  off,  still  gesticulating  and  conversing. 

Spoke.     But  we  came  here  expressly  to  flirt  with  the  girls,  and  if  we 

are  deprived  of  that  privilege  we  shall  go! 
Grip.     But  you  cannot  go!     You  have  paid  a  premium  to  learn  the 

business  and  must  stay. 
Spoke.     True  !    I  did  not  think  of  that. 

All  the  bicycle  men  hang  their  heads  sadly.  Re-enter  Crank,  followliig 
RXJGGS  and  companions. 

Grip.  Besides,  the  girls  were  betrothed  to  us  long  ago.  It  is  true  that 
they  are  only  the  daughters  of  workingmen,  and  if  we  marry  them 
we  shall  stoop  beneath  our  station;  but  we  have  no  doubt  they 
will  appreciate  the  honor  we  do  them  in  raising  them  to  our  level. 
Moreover,  they  don't  want  us,  which  is  an  additional  incentive  to 
the  course  we  are  resolved  upon. 

RiTGGS  and  companions.     Ah  !  (with  satisfaciion). 

Pounce  {deeply  moved).  Come,  Crank.  I  cannot  slay.  This  gener- 
osity touches  me  to  the  heart.  It  is  the  realization  of  my  dream, 
—  the  union  of  Capital  with  Labor.  {Takes  Crank's  arm.)  Let 
us  hence. 

Crank.  If  I  might  make  a  few  remarks,  T  would  observe  with  all 
due  humility  — 

Grip.     Silence  !     I  have  before  told  you  — 

Crank.  I  know  what  you  're  going  to  say.  You  have  before  told  me 
in  that  peculiarly  eloquent  manner  of  yours  that  my  conversation 
is  apt  to  be  too  verbose  in  comparison  with  the  paucity  of  the  ideas 


POUNCE    &    CO.  45 


upon  which  it  is  so  freely  and  so  elaiboratoly  expended;  but  if  you 
take  into  consideration  that  I  have  long  been  condemned  to  a  taci- 
turnity wholly  revolting  to  my  feelings  and  still  more  unjust  to  my 
capacity  for  expressing  myself  fluently  upon  all  necessary,  and,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  all  unnecessary  occasions,  you  will  appreciate 
my  joyous  yearning  for  availing  myself  of  the  opportunity  afforded 
me  of  speaking  again.     (Oomes  to  a  stop  for  want  of  breath.) 

Pounce.     Come,  Crank  ! 

Grip.  Xo,  stay.  Pounce.  As  what  1  have  to  say  is  likely  to  be  painful 
to  you,  you  had  better  remain  and  hear  it. 

Pounce.  I  cannot,  I  cannot.  It  is  too  much  for  me,  —  as  you  have 
been.     (Exit^  dragging  Crank.) 

Grip  (feelingly).  Poor  fellow.  He  is  a  strange  compound  of  low  cun- 
ning and  the  most  unblemished  dishonesty.  But  as  for  you.  Spoke, 
and  your  rebellious  companions,  I  have  only  to  say  that  you  had 
better  bear  in  mind  what  I  have  said  to  you.  You  will  find  it  to 
your  advantage. 

Exeunt  Grip  and  followers  with  stately  dignity,  Spoke  and  the  others 
snapping  their  thumbs  under  their  noses  till  they  are  off. 

Spoke.     J^ow,  what  is  to  be  done  !    Oh,  what  agony  it  is  to  be  a  baffled 

man,  and  we  are  all  baffled  men! 
Omxes.    Alas,  yes  ! 
Spoke.    Here  are  we  bound  to  this  delusive  mill  by  the  premiums  we 

have  paid  !     Is  there  no  way  out  of  it  ?    Perhaps,  too,  dreadful 

consideration  !  we  shall  be  robbed  of  the  girls  we  love,  and  who 

love  us  devotedly,  —  or  will  as  soon  as  Lord  Dobbins  has  made  his 

choice.     But  they  shall  j'et  be  ours  !     Ai'e  we  resolved? 
Omxes  (decidedly).     We  are  ! 
Enter  girls.     They  express  delight  upon  seeing  their  lovers,  and  are 

going  to  them,  but  suddenly  recollect  themselves  and  draw  back. 
Spoke.     AMiy  do  you  shrink  from  us  ? 
Electra.     I,  oh  I  did  not  shrink  !  ^_^ 

Eeeanor.     We  shrink  from  you  because  we  are  work-girls,  —  because 

we  cannot  now  link  ourselves  indissolubly  with  one,  —  or  perhaps 

I  should  say,  several,  —  who  will  blush  for  us. 
Spoke.    But  the  man  who  can  blush  is  not  wholly  lost  to  shame  ! 

Hear  me  !     We  love  you  still  ! 
Electra  (with  a  deep  sigh).    Ah  !     I  live  again  ! 
Spoke.     You  maybe  poor,  humble,  unworthy  of  us,  but  we  live  for  you 

alone.     (To  bicyclers.)     I  believe  I  express  the  general  sentiment. 


46  POUNCE    &    CO. 


All  the  Men  (approvingly).    Exactly  I 

Eleanor.  You  are  all  rich,  it  is  true,  and  we  sliould  want  for  noth- 
ing ;  that  is  a  great  inducement,  certainly  ;  but  though  poor 
now,  we  still  cherish  the  hopes  we  had  in  our  brighter  days,  and 
dream  that  Lord  Alfred  may  choose  one  of  us. 

Electra.    Alas,  yes! 

Eleanor.    If  it  were  not  for  that  we  shomld  not  hesitate  a  moment. 

Electra.     I  'm  sure  I  should  not. 

Spoke.  I  will  speak  to  him  this  very  day  about  it,  and  if  he  in  a  man 
he  will  make  up  his  mind  at  once. 

Electra.    Thanks,  oh  thanks! 

Enter  Dobbins.     The  girls  all  sigh  as  they  see  him,  and  then  cast  down 
their  eyes  with  humility. 

Spoke.    Excuse  me  for  what  I  am  about  to  say,  but  I  am  compelled  to 

the  course  I  am  taking.     To  come  to  the  point  at  once  ;  you  do 

not  deny  that  you  are  a  lord. 
Dobbins.     I  do  not.    I  am  a  lord  with  a  mystery. 
Spoke.    You  have  known  a  mother's  care! 
Dobbins.     Born  at  a  period  of  my  existence  when  self-care  was  wholly 

out  of  the  question,  I  was  thrown  early  upon  a  mother's  attentions. 

Ah!  unhappy  they  who  have  not  had  a  mother! 
Spoke.    Under  those  circumstances  it  is  of  course  imperative  upoji 

you  to  marry.     (All  the  girls  interested;   Electra  pushing  others 

hack.) 
Dobbins.     There  have  been  numerous  marriages  in  our  family  since 

it  first  originated.     I  presume  I  shall  follow  in  the  beaten  path. 

I'll  tell  you  of  one  marriage  that  was  rather  remarkable.      Pay 

attention. 

Song.  —  Dobbins. 

A  brother-in-law  weds  his  sister-in-law, 
Who  the  first  cousin  is  of  his  mother, 
The  niece  of  his  step-father's  aunt,  and  the  son 
Of  kis  grandfather's  oldest  twin  brothev. 
Now,  tell  me,  I  pray, 
Without  any  delay,    " 
Wliat  relation  each  bore  to  the  other. 

Ghortts  (int&rrogatively).     A  brother-in-law? 
Dobbins  (affirmatively),    A  brother-in-law! 
Chorus  (as  before).     Weds  his  sister-in-law? 
Dobbins  (as  before).      Weds  his  sister-in-law. 


POUNCE    &    CO.  47 


Cnor.i's.     Who,  the  first  cousm  is,  of  his  brother  V 
We  frankly  confess 
We  're  unable  to  guess 
The  relation  each  bore  to  the  other. 

Dobbins.     1 11  tell  you ! 

II. 

She  is  daughter-in-law  of  her  mother-in-law, 

And  he  is  his  sister's  own  brother, 
And  as  they  are  married  't  is  plain  to  be  seen 
They  are  husband  and  wife  to  each  other. 
'Tis  as  plain  as  can  be. 
And  I  hope  you  now  see 
.  What  relation  each  bore  to  the  other. 

Chorus  (reflectively).    She  is  daughter-in-law? 

Dobbins.     She  is  daughter-in-law. 

Chorus.    To  her  mother-in-law? 

Dobbins.     To  her  mother-in-law. 

Chorus.     And  he  is  his  sister's  own  brother? 
(Laughing.)  How  stupid  that  we 

From  the  first  difl  not  see 
They  were  husband  and  wife  to  each  other ! 

Enter  Grip.     He  starts  on  seevig  girls. 

Grip.  Ah!  I  thought  so.  Since  there  is  no  other  way  of  controlling 
the  mill  and  keeping  the  men  and  women  apart,  I  have  resolved 
that  the  girls  shall  henceforth  work  up-stairs.  In  the  prospect  that 
the  firm  may  possibly  marry  them  their  hearts  must  be  kept  dis- 
engaged. 

Electra.    Marry  us!     Oh,  you  dear  soul!     (  Falls  on  Grip's  neck.) 

Grip.  Enough  of  this  (disengaging  himself).  You  flirt  with  these 
bicycle  people  constantly.     I  shall  discharge  them  all! 

Spoke.  Ha,  ha!  Discharge  us!  You  cannot.  As  you  have  admitted 
in  the  presence  of  reliable  witnesses,  we  have  paid  a  premium  to 
learn  the  lousiness  and  cannot  go  until  we  have  learned  it.  And,  as 
we  never  intend  to  learn  it,  we  shall  stay  here  forever! 

Grip.  Baffled!  Maledictions!  But  one  thing  I  can  do,  and  that  is  to 
send  the  girls  up-stairs.  So  go!  At  once!  (Sends  girls  off,  chasing 
them  like  chickens.  The  girls  kiss  their  hands  to  men  as  they  de- 
part, Grip  trying  to  prevent  them.) 

Spoke  (indignantly).  I  cannot  find  words  sufficiently  strong  to  stig- 
matize this  comparatively  ungentlemanly  behavior.     I  —  I  — 


48  POUNCE   &   CO. 


Dobbins.  Not  a  word !  My  mystery  is  working.  Say  nothing,  but 
watch.  You,  too,  are  a  part  of  my  mystery.  Silence,  and  obey 
me.  (Looks  sternly  at  them.)  The  eye  of  the  nobility  is  on  you. 
As  it  is  superior  to  other  eyes  you  will  succumb  to  its  influence, 
of  course  !  Let  us  go  ;  and  in  order  that  our  confidences  to  each 
other,  if  overheard,  may  not  be  understood,  we  will  seek  safety  in 
a  foreign  tongue. 

Chorus  {with  fingers  on  lips). 

Mysterioso, 
Non  strepitoso; 
E  whisperoso, 
^      ,,       Silenzio  ! 

Ever  fearing, 
Some  one  hearing, 
Silenzio  1 

Exit  D0BBIH8,  followed  mysteriously  by  all  except  Spoke. 

Spoke.     Why,  ah,  why,  should  I  strepitoso  at  the  bidding  of  any 
proud  lord  when  my  heart  pants  for  my  E\eanor? 

Song. 

I. 

No  love  have  I  e'er  known 
Save  that  for  you  I  own. 

As  far  as  I  recall 
One,  very  likely  two, 
I  may  have  gone  to  woo, 

But,  at  the  most,  that 's  all. 
But  unto  you 
Will  I  be  true 

Forever  and  forever  ! 

II. 

Come,  love,  into  the  shrine 

Within  this  heart  of  mine, 

'  I  give  you  for  your  own. 

x"  You  '11  find  it  rather  small. 

But  don't  mind  that  at  all, 

For  you  '11  be  quite  alone. 
And  true  to  me 
I  'm  sure  you  '11  be 
Forever  and  forever  ! 

Eleanor  creeps  down  stairs  cautiously. 

Eleanor.    Hist  I  Hist ! 


POUNCE    &    CO.  49 


Spoke.    Ah  !  ray  Eleanor  ! 

Eleanor.     Softly,  or  we  shall  be  overheard  by  that  dreadful  Grip. 

What  is  to  be  done? 
Spoke.    You  are  ! 
Eleanor.    What  do  you  mean? 

Spoke.     That  Grip  and  his  fellows  are  to  marry  you  and  the  girls. 
Eleanor.    Never  !    What  do  they  take  us  for? 
Spoke.    For  wives,  I  suppose. 
Eleanor.     Don't  be  silly,  I  beg  !    Oh  dear,  dear  I    This  all  comes  of 

papa's  ridiculous  ideas  of  equality.     1  hope  he  is  satisfied  at  last ! 

Heigho  !  I  wish  I  were  a  protoplasm. 
Spoke.    Don't  wish  that,  beloved.     If  you  were,  what  would  become 

of  me? 
Eleanor.    True  !     It  was  selfish  in  me,  I  admit. 

Duet.  —  Eleanor  and  Spoke. 

Eleanor.  Oh,  could  but  I 

Take  wings  and  fly 
Up  to  the  sky. 
There  would  I  stay 
Till  you  that  way 

Could  speed  to  meet  me. 
Say,  would  you  come 
And  with  me  roam 
The  azure  dome, 
And  full  of  glee 


And  ecstasy, 

Make  haste  to  greet  me? 


Spoke.  Could  you  but  fly 

Up  to  the  sky, 


I  'm  sure  that  I, 
Without  delay. 
Would  haste  "away 

To  come  and  greet  you. 
Be't  understood. 
That  is,  I  would 
In  case  I  could. 
And  I  had,  too, 
Wings  just  lik-e  you, 

With  which  to  meet  you. 
For  you  must  own, 
With  wings  alone 
Have  any  flown 
Particularly  high 
Into  the  sky. 


50  POUNCE    &    CO. 


Ensemble. 

What  joy  to  float 

Upon  the  air 
In  case  the  weather  should  be  fair, 
For  should  it  rain 

You  must  admit 
We  should,  of  joj-, 

Have  not  a  bit. 

E7iter  Grip. 

Grip.     What?    Again?    Rebellion?    (Separating  them.)    Enough   of 

this  ! 
Eleanor.    Oh,  no!    Not  half  enough. 

Grip.     Away  with  you!     Embracing  each  other  before  my  very  eyes! 
Spoke.    How  could  I  know  you  were  looking? 

Eleanor.    And  if  it  was  unpleasing  to  you,  why  did  you  look  at  all? 
Grip.    Not  a  word.    Up  stairs  with  you! 

Eleanor  exits  up  stairs,  kissing  her  hand  to  Spoke. 
Grip.    And  as  for  you  — 

•    Enter  Crank,  precipitately. 

Crank.  Mr.  Grip,  I  have  a  few  important  words  to  say,  which  will 
not  take  up  more  than  half  an  hour  of  your  valuable  — 

ExitGBiP  hastily ,  followed  by  Crank. 

Spoke.  Parted  again.  Heigho!  Ah!  {Sees  telephone.)  A  telephone! 
She  is  in  the  room  above!  Ha,  ha!  Grip,  the  unrelenting  Grip, 
is  circumvented!     {Goes  to  telephone.) 

Duet.  —  Spoke  and  Eleanor. 

^^0^^  (rings  bell  of  telephone).  Hello!    Hello! 

Who  is  it?    I  can't  hear! 

Hello!  hello! 
Is  that  you,  Nellie,  dear? 
Hello! 

Eleanor  (outside).  Hello! 

Sfok^  (at  telepho7ie).    Ah!  my  heart  is  wholly  thine! 
Tell  me,  dost  on  me  bestow 
'  '  '    An  affection  like  to  mine, 

Speaking  naught  but  calm,  — '*  Hello!  *' 
Tell  me,  dost  thou  wish  me  near, 

As  in  the  lovely  short  ago. 
When  thy  first  kiss,  —  "  Hello !  "  —  so  dear, 
Filled  me  wholly  with  — ' '  Hello  I ' ' 


POUNCE    &    CO. 


51 


Eleanor  (outside). 


Together. 


If  thy  heart  its  faith  retain, 
Teil  me,  darling,  tell  me  so  ; 

And  relieve  me  of  the  pain 
That  now  makes  Tne  all  —  "  Hello  ^ " 

II. 

Yes,  I  love  thee  with  a  love 

That  a  change  can  never  know  ; 
And  I  prize  thee  far  above 

All  the  riches  of  — "Hello!" 
Ah!  beloved,  when  thou  'rt  near 

I  with  joy  am  all  aglow  ; 
When  away  from  thee  I  hear 

Nothing  but  thy  soft—  '^  Hello!  " 
O!  thou  loving  heart  of  mine. 

But  one  wish—  "  Hello!  "  —  I  know: 
To  be  thine,  and  only  thine, 

In  the  sweet,  sweet — "Hello!  " 

Thou 'rt  mine! 
I'm  thine. 
Hello! 
Now  go! 
Last  call! 
That 's  all. 

Enter  Polly,  hastt 

Polly.  Mr.  Dobbins  wants  you  and  the  girls  to  meet  him  here  at 
once. 

Spoke.     What  is  the  matter?    Is  the  mill  on  fire? 

Polly.  No;  but  I  think  it  is  going  to  be.  He  says  he  is  going  to  ex- 
plode his  mystery  at  once;  and  I  suppose  that  means  something 
terrible.  So  go,  please,  and  find  the  young  ladies  and  tell  them  to 
come  down. 

Spoke.  Anything  to  oblige  you  {aside)  and  to  see  the  adored  unap- 
proachable. 

Polly.  Ah!  I  shall  soon  know  Arthur  Dobbins's  mystery  that  he 
has  guarded  so  carefully.  I  wonder  if  he  has  the  slightest  sus- 
picion of  mine? 

Song. 

Loving  doubtless  is^a  pleasure. 

Though  the  heart  it  sting! 
It  is  sweet  unrest  to  treasure, 
And  that  sort  of  thing. 
But  still,  to  undergo 
This  most  ecstatic  woe. 
Unless  you  chance  to  know 


52  POUNCE    &    CO. 


He  suffers  too, 
As  well  as  you, 
Upon  my  word. 
Seems  quite  absurd! 
Yet  —  the  fact  1  can't  disclaim  — 
We  do  it  all  the  same! 

Why,  if  you  love,  delay  so. 
And  cause  me  to  bewray  so? 
When  you  might  kindly  say  so, 
And  till  my  life  with  joy 
Without  alloy! 

II. 

If  men  feel  the  tender  passion 

They  may  speak  outright; 
But  poor  we  are  placed  by  fashion 
In  another  light. 
To  speak  we  must  forbear; 
To  hint  we  may  not  dare ; 
No  heed  how  we  despair 
We  must  be  mum 
Until  they  come 
And  condescend 
Suspense  to  end! 
So  I  have  to  wait  and  wait 
To  learn  from  him  my  fate ! 

Why,  if  you  love,  delay  so,  //.Ui«  V 

And  cause  me  to  bewray  so?  •    s   > 

When  you  might  kindly  say  so,     ;  i  . ^  1/     .: .  ;,|,   , ;-* 

And  fill  my  life  with  joy  ,   ci 

Without  alloy!  -^     '<<i 

Entei'  Dobbins.  •»"     .  Ji 

Dobbins.  Polly,  the  mystery  I  have  so  long  carrieii  beneath  this 
workman's  waistcoat  is  about  to  be  divulged.  I  shall  pay  my  debt 
of  gratitude  and  then  return  to  the  halls  of  my  ancestors. 

Polly.     Were  the  hauls  of  your  ancestors  very  big? 

Dobbins.    Very,  Polly! 

Polly.  Were  they  as  big  as  the  hauls  of  the  politicians  about  which 
we  hear  so  much? 

Dobbins.  Misguided  but  innocently  shrewd  Polly,  your  acquaintance 
with  the  mysteries  of  spelling  needs  enlarging. 

Enter  Spoke,  Hubbe,  Tyre,  and  their  companions,  together  with  all 

the  girls. 

Spoke.    You  wanted  us!     We  are  here. 


.i.>q 


POUNCE    &    CO.                                                 53 

1    Dobbins.     I  have  already  observed  it,  but  I  thank  you  for  the  informa- 
tion all  the  same.    What  I  have  to  say  to  you  must  not  be  sus- 

pected. 

In  order  to  mislead  attention  in  case  we  are  interrupted 

you  will  oblige  me  by  simulating  the  raptures  of  terpsichorean  joy. 
In  other  words,  dance! 

Quintette  and  Chorus. —Polly,  Eleanor,  Electra,  Dobbins, 

Spoke. 

Dobbins. 

{To  girls.) 
{To  men.) 

I  've  no  time  with  words  to  parry, 

So  at  once  ahead  I  '11  drive. 
You  these  gentlemen  would  marry; 
With  these  ladies  you  would  wive. 

Spoke. 

You  the  truth  present  compactly; 

That  is  clear,  beyond  a  doubt; 
But  I  cannot  see,  exactly. 

How  you  chanced  to  find  it  out  I 

All. 

Yes,    j  ^^^^  \  cannot  see  exactly 

How  -      J^^    y  chanced  to  find  it  out. 

Eleanor. 

Since  the  subject  thus  you  mention, 

May  we  ask  if  you  will  tell 
If  you  have  the  le'ast  intention 
To  assist  our  love,  as  well? 

All. 

Yes,  have  you  the  least  intention 
To  assist  ]  *^^^!^    llove,  aswelP 

Dobbins. 

That  depends  on  circumstances 
And  on  what  to  me  you  say. 

Electra. 

We  -re  prepared  for  all  advances 
You  may  make  us  in  that  way. 

All. 

We  're  prepared  for  all  advances 
You  may  make  us  in  that  way. 

Polly. 

If  you  've  any  proposition 
Pointing  matrimonially, 

They  with  instant  expedition 
With  its  mandates  will  comply. 

All. 

We  're  prepared  with  expedition 
With  its  mandates  to  comply. 

Dobbins. 

Very   well,   gentlemen ;    make  your  choice.     Select  your 

wives. 

Men  {bowing  resiyectfully).     After  you,  my  lord. 

54  POUNCE    &   CO. 


All  the  girls  come  forward  and  surround  Dobbins  with  an  air  of  anx- 
ious resignation,  Electra  obtrusive. 

Dobbins.  Though  1  feel  deeply  the  honor  done  me  by  these  fair 
maidens,!  am  obliged,  in  justice  to  the  sentiments  with  which  they 
inspire  me,  to  confess  that  I  do  not  want  any  of  them. 

The  girls  all  sigh  with  relief,  except  Electra,  who  looks  hurt. 

Eleanor.    WeU,  that  suspense  is  over,  and  we  are  free  !    But  bless 

me  !     We  can't  marry  them,  after  all.     Papa  promised  us  first  to 

the  others,  and  they  now  claim  us. 
Dobbins.     Were  not  the  terms  of  the  contract  that  you  were  to  marry 

workmen  ! 
Girls  (sadly).    Yes,  yes  ! 
Dobbins.    Very  well,  then.     Those  who  claim  you  are  not  workmen, 

but  employers. 
Girls  (eagerly).    Yes,  yes  ! 

Dobbins  (triumphantly).    Then  you  can  not  be  theirs  ! 
Omnes.     Saved  !  saved  !     (They  all  kneel  at  the  feet  o/ Dobbins.) 
Dobbins  (benignantly).    Else  !  this  gratitude  moves  me.     The  eye  of 

the  nobility  is  dim  with  emotion.     Rise  and  choose. 

Spoke  chooses  Eleanor;  Hubbe  Esther,  Tyre  Sylvia,  and  the 
others  the  remaining  girls  ;  Electra  being  left  alone. 

Electra.     But  where  is  mine  f    Am  I  to  have  none  ?    I  suppose  I  il 

have  to  accept  you. 
Dobbins.    No,  no  !    I  am  going  to  give  the  nobility  a  new  sensation 

by  marrying  beneath  my  station,  so  I  choose  the  unspoiled  Polly, 

who  never  forgot  hers. 
Omnes.    Polly  Chromo ! 
Electra  (spitefully).    A  chromo  given  with  every  lord  I 

Quintette  (reprise). 

Omnes.  To  this  welcome  proposition. 

Pointing  matrimonially. 
All  with  instant  expedition 
With  its  mandates  will  comply. 

Enter  Grip,  Ruggs,  Tuggs,  Muggs,  Sluggs,  and  work-people,  followed 
by  Pounce  and  Crank. 

Grip.  Ah,  dancing.  Enjoying  yourselves  instead  of  working.  What 
does  it  mean? 


POUNCE    &    CO.  55 


Crank.    As  it  seems  to  me,  I  would  suggest — 

Grip.    Silence !    Are  you  revolting? 

Dobbins.    No!    It  is  you  who  are  revolting. 

Crank.    Eminently  so! 

Dobbins.  This  has  gone  far  enough.  I  had  a  mystery;  hear  me 
divulge  it. 

Crank.    I  am  attentive.     Let  the  rest  retire. 

Dobbins.  No!  it  is  for  all  to  hear.  The  folly  of  Pounce  &  Co.  needed 
a  lesson. 

Crank.  Excuse  me  ;  Pounce  may  have  needed  one,  but  the  Co.,  my 
humble  self,  stood  in  no  need  of  — 

Dobbins.     One  moment,  Mr.  Crank. 

Crank.  Make  it  short,  then,  and  give  somebody  else  a  chance  to 
speak.  I  have  a  flow  of  eloquence  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue, 
which  — 

Dobbins.  Let  it  remain  there  for  the  present,  Mr.  Crank,  if  you 
please.  Pounce  &  Co.  needed  a  lesson  ;  I  had  a  debt  of  gratitude 
to  repay  and  that  lesson  to  teach.     Both  are  accomplished. 

Crank.     Are  you  through? 

Dobbins.    Not  yet.    Now  listen.  I  have  consulted  an  eminent  lawyer. 

Crank.  Now,  if  there  's  anything  I  admire  it 's  an  eminent  lawyer. 
The  law,  from  my  point  of  view,  is  one  of  the  prof oundest  — 

Dobbins  (remonstrating).    Pray,  Mr.  Crank  — 

Crank.     I  don't  feel  like  praying  ;  I  want  to  talk. 

Dobbins  (to  Grip).  From  this  eminent  lawyer  I  have  learned  that,  as 
you  have  no  written  agreement  with  Pounce  &  Co. ,  they  are  still 
owners  of  the  mill  and  you  are  liable  to  damages  for  a  large 
amount  for  obtaining  property  under  false  pretences. 

Crank.     I  am  struck  speechless. 

Spoke.     I  wish  you  were. 

Dobbins.  But  no  legal  action  will  be  taken  if  you  return  to  your 
places  as  workmen, — without  the  delicacies  of  the  season.  (To 
Pounce.)  You  are  again  Pounce  &  Co.  You  have,  I  trust,  learned 
your  lesson.  I  have  no  longer  a  mystery.  Y"ou  once  did  a  service 
to  the  nephew  of  a  particular  friend  of  mine.  Lobster  salad.  I 
came  here  to  pay  that  debt.  I  will  also  pay  the  debts  of  the  firm. 
Bless  you!  I  am  no  longer  Arthur  Dobbins,  but  Lord  Alfred 
Peerage. 

Grip.  Down-trodden  work-people  again!  It  is  the  chance  of  war. 
I  can  now  complain  again,  —  and  suffer. 

Polly.     As  you  ought  to  do,  you  abandoned  man. 


56  POUNCE    &    CO. 


Electra.  No!  not  aha,ndoned  {throws  herself  on  his  neck).  I'll  com- 
fort you;  I  '11  never  leave  you. 

Grip  {aghast).    What? 

Dobbins.  Hold!  The  lady's  marked  attentions  to  you  have  made  you 
liable  to  a  suit  for  breach  of  promise,  which  will  ruin  you.  Take 
her,  and  no  more  striking. 

Electra.     Have  no  fear.     Henceforth  I  '11  do  all  the  striking. 

aPouNCE.     And  we  are  masters  again. 

Crank.    Huzza!    I  — 

3P0UNCE.  Excuse  me,  Crank.  You  are  once  more  a  silent  partner. 
Thank  goodness  for  that.  (Crank  resumes  his  former  taciturn 
manner.)  From  what  I  see,  the  girls  have  paired  off.  Well,  I 
give  my  consent.  You  give  yours,  of  course,  Crank  (Crank  re- 
mains silent).    Ah!  silence  gives  consent. 


Finale. 

All  our  troubles  now  are  ended ; 

All  is  as  it  was  before ; 
And  the  broken  firm  is  mended, 

As  we  hope,  to  break  no  more 
'T  is  not  perfect,  but  we  never 

Find  that  anything  is  so; 
But  'tis  moved  by  good  endeavor; 

So,  success  to  Pounce  &  Co. 


Curtain. 


ini 


.^fe^ 


CD    I 


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